Run And Hide But A Face Will Still Pursue You!
by snickerspods
Summary: A Girl, masquerading as a boy, comes under the Phantom's tutelage during the renovation of the Opera Populaire. What will happen when he discovers she's not what she seems? Rated for future chapters
1. Chapter 1, Paris 1874

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you! {(Chapter One)}**

Paris ((1874))

_A bit over three years_, Danielle mused as the cart horses hauled against the load they were hitched to of wood and labourers that rode it. She clutched tighter to the rope that kept the wood strapped down, her knuckles white as she was tossed precariously with the jerks of the cart.

The remains of the old opera house loomed ahead. For three years, the Opera Populaire had remained lonely and slowly decaying with the passage of time. Just another of Paris' many landmarks. For the past two years it had been for sale, and had remained stubbornly so, even after it had become clear no one would buy the ruins.

But then an American had had the guts- or the stupidity- to purchase the building. The cart lurched to a halt in front of the entrance stairs, the doors wide open and tradesmen traipsing in and out. Danielle jumped down from her place, as did the several older lads she rode with. They were all thin wiry lads, agile and full of stamina like Danielle. The only difference between her and the boys was gender, and Danielle had worked hard to make sure no one knew that.

She was blessed with strawberry blonde hair, straight and as silky as fine silken threads. But she kept it cropped to just above the shoulder and usually tied back with a single black ribbon in the style of many young men. Every day, she would meticulously bind her chest as tight as possible, hiding her womanly curves. Though her chest admittedly was small for a girl of 18 years, she still had to bind herself, lest she be discovered. She hid her willowy figure with the aid of loose fitting shirts and trousers. Her naturally soft and sweet tone of voice was adequately hidden by speaking as a commoner and after many years of practice, she had learnt how to alternate the pitch and texture so she could sound like a passable male.

Eight years she had been with the tradesmen, working alongside them as one of the men. Everyone had accepted her as a very slight but able boy. Termed as a 'jack of all trades,' she dabbled in most trades and was useful at construction sites. Her pale, porcelain skin was thankfully covered in a layer of dust and grit, thanks to the buildings she was almost constantly around.

"Daniel! Daniel!" She turned her head as Blake, her closest friend amongst the lads, strode to her side and captured her shoulder. "Boss said to get the wood inside and then scatter where we're needed," he said, waiting for her instructions. The boys had a kind of code, there was the 'Boss' or rather the figurehead, and then there was Danielle or Daniel as they knew her. None of them would lift a finger until her instructions had been given, and then they would follow them to the letter.

She nodded and then looked to the load of wood. Her critical gaze swept over the stack, her eyes the pleasant colour of good aged whiskey. She flashed her eyes back to the group of boys, milling about patiently. "Alright boys. George with Andy. Raymond with Frank. Erin with Jake. Will with Bill. Tony with Verence. And Blake you're with me." Her voice had risen to parade ground volume, booming easily across the area. She added just the right amount of grit with a slight slur of her R's, to bring down the normally refined sound of her speech.

They all nodded in acceptance. She had matched boys together that would balance out each other, such as small Tony with all but giant Verence. In the case of Tony and Verence, Verence could pick up the length of wood on his own but he would loose all direction; that's where Tony the smallish lad would guide his steps, doggedly getting the transfer done quickly and efficiently. It was similar with the others except in their own subtle ways.

Blake and Danielle were the first towards the load. Her nimble fingers made short work of the knots and she tossed the ropes back over the load. As Blake began to direct the others with the wood, Danielle skirted around the cart to the other side. She drew the rope through the metal rungs and then tossed it back over again. She repeated this three times, the ropes having been secured in something of a shoelace pattern. She rejoined Blake at his side, the rope coiled and slung over one shoulder and her head so it rested diagonally across her body. He nodded when he noticed and as the large Verence grabbed another log, one of the large ones that Danielle guessed would be used for the replacement of the carvings around the boxes; she scrambled up onto the already smaller pile. She grabbed an end of one of the logs and using her weight and certain angles rather than brute strength, she slid the log along till Blake grabbed the other end and hefted it onto his shoulder. Blake usually took the brunt of the weight, so Danielle took anything he couldn't and it worked well, especially with her acting like a rudder at the back.

The moment she was on the ground and the log was on her shoulder, her arm wrapped around, they wound their way past the stairs and through the doors into the chaotic anterior. Having been here earlier to gain her bearings with the rest of the tradesmen they worked for, Blake and Danielle quickly made their way to the stage where the space was being used to construct the various pieces. Already carpenters and the like were hard at work. Looking out at the empty and still charred remains of the seats, Danielle saw a man in some kind of harness hanging down by a salvageable carved maiden. Lovingly he chiselled a portion, applying the hammer with gentle taps. Blake and Danielle placed down their burden with the pile beginning to form. They returned to the cart and for the next 20 minutes or so they went back and forth until every log was transferred.

As Raymond and Frank deposited the last log heads turned to Danielle for further instructions. She smirked "Okay boys, you heard the Boss. Go be useful, but keep in your current pairs." Immediately they went off in their pairs, off to help wherever it was needed. She turned to Blake. "Listen Blake, I'm going to scope the joint but I need you to keep an eye out on the boys while I'm otherwise occupied."

"Alright, the boys and I'll fill you in later tonight. Boss told us we have lodgings here until constructions finished, I'll be at the front door at 6 if you haven't finished by then," Blake agreed, smirking in return.

Danielle grinned as she turned on a booted heel and made for the shadowy recesses by the stage. She and her crew were an honest bunch, but they made it their business to know everything about any place they worked at. Give them a good 24 hours and they could tell you with complete certainty who was sleeping with whom, exactly what rumours were true, how many hairs the man named 'Smith' had missed while shaving, and where the vault was and the combination; not to mention exactly how much was in that safe or vault.

No one ever seemed to notice the young men. One of the best places to put something you wanted to hide was in plain view, and so it was the same with spies of any sort. The best way to play the spy with no suspicions aimed at you was to just be a part of the scenery, to have always been there, and she and the boys were more than adept at doing that.

Danielle wandered down the corridors, passing various workers busy at their tasks. The place smelt faintly of smoke and mothballs, currently overshadowed with the fresh new smells of candle wax and saw dust. She went deeper, skirting a couple making out ravenously in a corner. _Both men_, Danielle noticed. Only in the theatre or opera might such a union be accepted; not spoken of, but accepted. Danielle had no problem with the union; in her opinion, love was love no matter whom you had it for.

She spotted what she had been unintentionally looking for. Grinning, she grasped it in her hand. She cast a quick glance around her before hoisting her lithe form up the rope until she had climbed up to the hidden world made up of rope walkways and well-placed planks. With a rope wrapped around her wrist for insurance, she looked idly about her in the gloomy darkness.

Danielle grasped the rope more firmly around her wrist and twined her leg around the rope before she swung herself bodily and _swooshed_ quietly through the air to a nearby rope bridge. She let the rope go and squatted down on the wooden boards that made the walkway. She peered over the edge and observed a maturing but elegant woman and a young girl with cornfield blond hair below. Danielle sighed in a moment of purely feminine envy and smoothed a hand over her cropped hair, wishing she could have the luxury of growing her tresses long as she had as a child.

She snapped her attention back to the two females as they began talking in hushed tones. Danielle was delighted to discover that despite how quiet they were straining to be sounds drifted easily up to her and she settled in to listen unashamedly to their secret conversation.

"Do you think he has gone mother?" the girl asked, looking around as if she expected someone to jump out.

"I do not know Meg my dear. He is a persistently stubborn creature and if there is a chance he is still alive I would not put it past him to return for some sick sense of revenge." The maturing woman was obviously this girl's mother, and Danielle had her suspicions about what they were discussing. The story had spread through Paris as only the juiciest of gossip could, that is to say quickly and viciously. The details weren't known; just that a mad man had 'haunted' the opera and caused deaths and the event that had thrown the Opera into its current state of dilapidation. Obviously this woman knew a lot more than the public.

Curiosity caught Danielle began to listen in earnest, instead of the mild interest of a few moments ago.

"Mother, please stop blaming yourself. You simply showed compassion to a young boy who desperately needed it. In your place I would have done the same thing." Madame Giry smiled softly at Meg. She felt better for her words but the guilt still clung to her consciousness. She felt her neck prickle at the all too familiar sensation of being watched and she lifted her gaze, her face draining of colour for a moment. But all was still, there was even a boy coiling a rope nonchalantly on one of the plank bridges. He flashed a bright smile at her and tipped his cap, fingerless gloves adorning his hands. She smiled in return and turned back to Meg.

Danielle let out her breath in relief, thankful she had brought that rope along forgotten across her chest. She resettled her cap more firmly on her head, having whipped it out of her pocket. God knows how the woman had known she was up here, but thankfully Danielle had seen the tensing of shoulders just in time. Conversation struck up between the two once again, but now it was over the new dancers and girls coming into the ballet. Danielle shrugged and strolled along the high walkway, hands stuck boyishly in her pockets. She whistled as she nimbly traversed the ropes and planks, grateful she was used to heights as her various trades called for.

This Phantom business intrigued her; she was a sucker for mysteries. Later tonight, she'd instruct the boys to keep their ears open for anything relating to it. Grabbing a random rope, after a hard tug to ensure the thing was properly anchored, she wrapped a leg with the braid before she jumped from her current spot and let the rope slip through her hands, lowering her rapidly and safely to the ground. As Danielle's boots hit home she released the rough but sturdy piece of stage rope and wandered off once again.


	2. Chapter 2, To Go Or Not To Go

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Two)}**

Everything was dark, though the sound of cheery occupancy drifted through the still air. Danielle sauntered confidently through the shadows, unhampered by the darkness. She stepped around a dropped tool in the marble foyer, the scarred floors almost restored to their formal grandeur. Near the entrance, a small pool of light flooded the figure of Blake, waiting patiently as he said he would, holding a lantern. Danielle, after a habitual glance around, stepped into the light. Blake nodded to her once and turned. He strode forward to a nearby servants door, set in an almost invisible recess. The two comrades worked their way through the passage, dousing the lamp once the evenly spaced wall sconces made it ineffectual.

As they moved along, Danielle became aware of the gentle murmur of the boys, growing louder the further they traipsed. Not much later, Blake and Danielle stepped into the brightly lit but private space the lads occupied. All sound ceased as heads turned, and the boys greeted her with quick smiles and nodded heads. She nodded solemnly as she moved to a stack of crates, taking up her seat at the top. Sitting Indian style, she surveyed her friends.

Blake was a big guy, taller than her by at least a head. He had chocolate brown hair- cropped short and close to his skull- and similar eyes. He seemed to have a perpetual five o'clock shadow, though he shaved daily. He was also the oldest and Danielle's right hand man in almost every sense of the word.

Verence, as said before, was a veritable giant, but he was gentle at heart. He had a mop of black hair, thick bushy eyebrows set on a pronounced supra-orbital ridge and black beetle like eyes above a nose that was a close cousin to a potato. These same eyes glistened with warmth and intelligence and he was as clever as he was big.

Verence was usually partnered with Tony. The boy was the shortest next to Danielle and, if possible, slighter than her. Nevertheless, he was as agile as they came and his personality was ferocious and confident, bolstering the shyer Verence. He had a shock of bright red hair and a generous smattering of freckles. His eyes were a bright green, his Irish heritage making itself known in the challenging gaze.

Will and Bill were brothers, mirror image twins in fact. Will was the oldest by 20 minutes and made a point of reminding his brother of this constantly. They had black hair of a deep raven and kept it in a similar fashion to Danielle, tied back with green velvet ribbons. They had hazel eyes, set in surprisingly aristocratic structured faces. They were the most female savvy amongst the group and both could be relied upon to seduce pretty lasses at any given chance. They were toned, as Danielle had often seen.

She'd seen all the guys shirtless at least once. When work was hot and laborious they tended to shed the garments. Under her guise as a boy they never thought it improper to appear shirtless with a fellow buccaneer. Over the years they had come to accept that 'Daniel' simply did not wish to be seen shirtless, or anything less, and had long stopped pressuring her to come skinny dipping on those occasions they'd had access to a pool nearby.

Erin and Jake were almost identical in personality, but in appearance, they were completely different. Except for perhaps height, they were opposites physically. Erin had golden, straw blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes. He styled his hair in something of a bowl cut, curling slightly just below the earlobe. His build was lean and wiry, agile as a goat and energetic as they come. Under the grime that lads of his profession were likely to acquire in the course of a day, his skin was lightly tanned. Jake, in turn, was the colour of rich black coffee, his teeth startlingly white when he grinned. He had thick, black hair that he kept it cropped short to his head in tight curls. Jake's eyes were chocolate brown and his face finely boned though set in stern lines. He was, to put it mildly, buff- in Danielle's opinion grotesquely so.

Raymond and Frank were easily termed average. They seemed like normal young lads, but they were some of the trickiest and slipperiest of the group. Witty and funny, they could be termed the clowns and delighted in putting whole rooms in stitches. Both had brown hair, kept in the shoulder length tied back fashion. Raymond had brown eyes whereas Frank had sea-foam green.

George and Andy were the children. Both only 14 years of age they had only been with the group for four years, having been sold to the Boss at 10 years old like everyone else. They had rounded, innocent faces but they weren't innocent in any sense. They were nimble creatures and had taught the group the art of thievery, though Danielle had strictly forbid practicing the skill for dishonourable reasons. Andy was a mouse blonde child, with hazel eyes framed in luxurious lashes. George was in contrast a bright, almost platinum blonde, with baby blue and deceptively innocent eyes. They also kept their hair in the shoulder-length, tied back style.

"Okay boys. What have we got?" Danielle asked, patiently waiting for the reports they were sure to give. Sure enough, they began to fill her in, telling her every observation and snippet of conversation. She listened with only half an ear, filtering out the important bits. She began to peace together their information with the image she had begun to build for herself from her own wonderings after her encounter with Meg and her mother.

There were many rumours flying around about the proclaimed Phantom of the Opera. There were many versions of the story, some frankly idiotic. Danielle found herself snorting at some of them. Many of the dancing girls, according to their observations and her own, were afraid that the Phantom would come after them because he apparently preyed on young, pretty, talented girls. _Vain much_, Danielle thought cynically.

One of the boys mentioned a Madame Giry and his description of her and her daughter confirmed that the pair Danielle had seen was indeed Madame Giry and Meg. At the end of the recitations, which had gone far into the night, Danielle rencountered her information and observations.

"So _mes amours_, keep your ears and eyes open over this 'Phantom' character. You all know I like a good mystery and this is certainly going to keep us entertained until our contract with this forsaken place is over." Grins were flashed; the boys enjoyed a good mystery themselves.

"Do you think he's back, Daniel?" Erin asked his grin looked positively eager.

"I think he could be, all the rumours pretty much say the same thing. And if he is as vengeful as they seem to think, he'll be back." Danielle nodded wisely as she said this. "Get some sleep boys; we've got a day ahead of us," she told them as she slithered off the crates and began to saunter away, signalling Blake as she did. He promptly rose and followed her form the flood of light, in the shadows once again where she preferred Danielle turned to her right hand man. "Where are we bunking?" She asked, glancing at the joking group of boys.

"We've got a bunch of bunks in an old dance hall with the other lower tradesmen. But there's a bunch of abandoned rooms up near the roof."

Danielle nodded. She had always chosen different lodgings away from people at night, it had always been as such and so the boys had never taken offence. They never questioned why, they just accepted her eccentricities. They didn't know it was because she had to hide her gender, as she had been doing for eight years straight. Explaining away her first women's cycle had been a blast, she'd come up with some cock and bull story about injuring her inner thigh. Sometimes it surprised her how such intelligent and clever young men could be so thick, but then again, loyalty did that. Hell, she was almost convinced they would believe cheese was made from frog skin boiled in a vat for three days if she said so.

Blake grinned mischievously at her. "And ah... the man I was talking to just happen to um Idrop/I these." He drew from his pocket a spare set of keys on a large metal ring.

Danielle's eyebrow quirked up and she smirked, "Right. _Dropped,_" She snatched the keys from his grip at the same time as she clapped him on the shoulder. "Go to sleep Blake, don't wait up for me in the morning. Get the boys going. I'll be exploring this place. One of the rumours I didn't share with them was that apparently the Phantom has secret passages and such all over the joint. I'm going to see if it has any merit tomorrow."

He nodded understandingly. "Good night Daniel," he said as he left her standing in the darkness. A shiver of apprehension raced down her spine suddenly, setting her nerve endings jangling.

Danielle shook it off with a shrug before merging into the shadows once again and moving soundlessly along the passageway. Pure luck must have been on her side; too many times to count, she would just miss stumbling over something in the almost pitch black.

Finally, she had found her way by stint of stubborn determination to the abandoned rooms near the roof. Weary, she went to the first door she came across and began to try the keys in the lock. Key after key stubbornly refused to unlock the door. Frustrated, tired, and as hard headed as ever, Danielle stuffed the keys in her pocket in a defiant gesture and drew a pin from the cap that still rested rakishly on her head. No door was going to get the best of Danielle. She bent closer to the lock and fit the pin into place, a few seconds later after some skilled manoeuvring there was a soft _snick_ as the door unlocked.

Smiling smugly, Danielle removed the pin and slid it back into place in her cap before opening the door and strolling casually through. In the semi gloom of the room, she could make out a bed, dresser, wardrobe, another door, and one huge mirror. Her eyes strained in the darkness until she was finally able to identify the silhouette of a kerosene lamp. She made her way carefully over to it and she lifted the fluted glass as she produced a book of matches from her pocket. She struck the match and lit the lamp, replacing the glass before turning it up. Abruptly the room was flooded with light, the one small lamp doing wonders.

She cast her eyes more critically over the room and her eyes widened ever so slightly. The place had been trashed. The mattress and pillow had been slashed relentlessly and feathers littered the place. One of the wardrobe doors had almost been ripped off and dresses had been torn to shreds and thrown around haphazardly. The dresser drawers had been wrenched out and thrown to the floor, where it appears they had met with something hard and vicious. What had once been a single wooden chair was now mere chunks of wood and splinters about the room. The wooden floor was scarred. A dagger was driven almost hilt deep into the surface of the dresser. The only thing untouched in the room, for even the inside of the doors were slashed, was perhaps the mirror. It seemed to stand over the room, a great guardian watching its charge.

She walked carefully over to the reflective glass, picking her way nimbly through the debris. She briefly spared a thought for how she had made it through to the lamp in the first place before her mind was consumed with the mirror. It was huge, floor length, and gilt edged. The edges of the reflective surface were a bit rusty looking, suggesting great age, but the middle was still crystal clear. Instinctively, she brought a hand to the mirror and touched her fingertips to the surface. Immediately that same surge of apprehension raced down her spine; she jerked her hand back in reaction.

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she observed the mirror moodily, glaring at it but having no idea why. She narrowed her eyes as she felt the tiniest of breezes, almost non-existent. Ignoring the now constant buzz of trepidation coursing through her nerve endings, she brought both hands to the surface. Sure enough, the ice-cold surface had a slight current of air gliding over the surface. Following the current to the source her fingers found themselves at the left edge of the mirror. Danielle's brow furrowed as she felt along the edge, biting her lip in concentration. _Ha!_ Her fingertips were just able to catch a slight depression. She worked her fingers in, going carefully and slowly, her fatigue forgotten. Once sure of her hold she began to tug on it. It moved slightly. Setting her chin she tugged more, using her weight and rocking it slightly, she jerkily slid it inch by inch, farther and farther across. She stopped once the space she had worked open was Danielle-sized and a cold wet current streamed from the opening. Danielle shivered on impulse.

She looked at the opening for a long moment. Something told her go ahead, go in follow it. But another part, a louder part, told her to close it and wait until morning when light may be easier to come by. Danielle furrowed her eyebrows; logically, waiting until morning would be the smarter thing to do. She would have more light to work by; though she couldn't be sure there were any windows down there. She bit her lip as she thought, _to go or not to go._ One part of her mind mused on the irony of that statement, since she was after all in an Opera house. A sudden wave of fatigue caught up to her, all at once solidifying her decision. She would hold off until morning, when she had more energy and her mind was sharper. Nodding with the thought, she worked the mirror closed once again, feeling oddly safer.

Looking at it she turned and grabbed a random piece of material and draped it over the mirror. She was too tired to find another room tonight so this would make do. Danielle made her way to the butchered mattress and cast her eye over it. Working with quick deft movements she had the material gathered up and stuffed in the mattress. A large piece of material worked as a sheet for the moment and Danielle found a treasure amongst the chaos. A black velvet cape had been dropped at some point and the owner left it behind. As she picked it up a shriveled red rose dropped from the folds. A single black ribbon was tied in the simplest of bows around the stem. Danielle watched it for a moment, not sure why it seemed such a sad sight.

Shrugging, she looked at the cape. It would serve as a fine blanket and keep her sufficiently warm. She dropped it on the bed before seating herself. Reaching down she slipped off her boots, wiggling her toes as she did so. Next she stood up and pulled the shirt out of her trousers waistband, tugging it over her head with a sigh, and she dropped it to the floor by her feet. Danielle sat back down and touched the cotton bandage that bound her breasts. She untied an end and slowly began to unwind the endless strip from her chest. The binding pressure she was so accustomed to left a rush of heat behind as it came loose. She sighed with pleasure when it finally all fell away. She tugged the shirt back on for modesty's sake as she rolled the bandage back into a perfect cylinder. _At least if I ever wear a corset I'll be used to it,_ Danielle thought with some amusement, placing the bandage in a boot for safe keeping.

Danielle lay back with a contented sigh, pulling the cape up over her. It covered her from shoulder to foot with ease. It had a not unpleasant smell of wax, leather, sweat and a musky sent that just said "male" to Danielle as she drifted off.


	3. Chapter 3, The Advantages Of Ma'm

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Three)}**

_The light! It burns!_ Danielle thought as she groaned and rolled over, away from the sunlight streaming defiantly through her window. As Danielle laid in semi-consciousness, the events of the day before drifted lazily through her mind. _Whoa, hold up! The mirror!_ She bolted upright in bed, the cape slithering off her shoulders to pool around her waist and legs. Danielle looked wide-eyed at the mirror for a moment, the scrap of material still covering the surface. Slowly she brought herself down from her adrenalin high and regained her wits. Danielle slid her legs from beneath the cape and swung them to the floor. Looking about the room, she thought of a bath and her eyes settled on the yet unknown door. Standing, she moved towards it, nudging things out of her path as she went. Danielle gripped the knob and turning the handle threw it open, unsure why she was going for such dramatics.

She nearly squealed with delight as her eyes landed on the bathroom, untouched by whoever had taken out their anger on the bedroom. Moving inside she did a quick search and was further pleased to find a cupboard of towels and bars of unscented soap. By far Danielle's favourite aspect of the room was the deep bathtub. She turned on the hot water faucet, sighing with pleasure as a few minutes later it heated to scalding. Danielle turned on the cold faucet and placed a plug in the tub and let it fill while she closed the door and undressed.

Shirt, gloves, trousers and undergarments discarded, Danielle stepped into the luxuriously hot water. She simply lay for a moment, but realizing that she did not have long she ducked under the water and wet her hair. Danielle quickly lathered her body and her hair and rinsed. She stood from the tub, grabbed the slightly rough but adequate towel, and wrapped it around her slim figure. She pulled the plug as she stepped out. She patted herself dry and towelled her hair thoroughly. Taking her clothing Danielle re-entered the room and sat on the bed. She replaced her undergarments and trousers but paused at her shirt. Reaching into her boot, she extracted the bandage and once again, set to binding herself up. Her chest flat again, the shirt slipped easily on. Danielle tucked it in and replaced her boots. She ran her fingers through her hair and finding her discarded ribbon in her pocket, she tied it back. Her cap was set at a jaunty angle on her head and she slipped her fingerless gloves on.

_Now or never_, Danielle thought, glaring at the covered mirror. She stood up and once again trekked across the littered ground to the mirror. In a defiant move, she ripped the material off and glared at her own reflection. Resetting her cap, she set to finding the depression in the glass. Danielle found it quickly and it slid open, perhaps a little less jerkily.

She peered into the darkness behind the mirror, that same cold wet current fluttering across her skin. Except now, there was a scent on the breeze. It was the smell of fresh candle wax and kerosene drenched torches. Someone was down there; Danielle knew it. She cautiously stuck her head through, and in the light from her room she could identify a torch set in a brace, unlit and looking old. As she was just about to take a step in, her hand already halfway to her matches, the door began to rattle.

She jerked her head back and hastily began to close the mirror. Just as it slid shut the door opened and an irritated Madame Giry stood in the doorway. Danielle spun around and flashed a disarming smile at the woman. "Morning ma'm!" she said cheerfully, adding just the right amount of boyish charm to her tone to placate a queen. "Boss tol' me to in-ven-tory the rooms this mornin' Ma'am" she said nonchalantly, strolling lazily towards Madame Giry. She deliberately sounded out the word inventory, to suggest she was as simple as she looked.

Immediately the maturing woman's face cleared. "Oh yes, I was just a bit worried because we've lost the spare set of keys you see and…" she trailed off, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Los' ma'am?" Danielle said putting on a quizzical expression. "But I was given the keys las' nigh' ma'm. So I could get to it firs' thing ma'am." She held up the ring of keys casually, as if this was a natural occurrence.

Madame Giry nodded, seemingly believing her. "Oh yes, must have slipped John's mind. He was on the liquor last night." She had a pleasant accent, she pronounced her English well and clearly but her accent was still quite distinguishable. Suddenly her brows furrowed, "However the key to this room has long been lost, how did you get in child?"

_Damn!_ Danielle thought, _Think fast. _ She forced her shoulders into a casual shrug. "Door was open ma'am, jus' came straigh' in ma'am." Danielle had long known that the more Ma'am's you said the thicker people tend to assume you are. "I tell you, I was a bi' shocked a' the state of this room. Seems some one go' a bi' riled up." She said cracking a grin.

Madame Giry's eyes had gone wide and she seemed a bit pale. She quickly regained her composure though. "Yes well, this was once Miss Daaé's room and I'm sure you've heard the stories."

Danielle's mind worked quickly. "Yes ma'am, specked all of Paris has. But you see ma'am, I don' put much stock in rumours, meself."

"Then you're a very wise young man." Madame Giry said casting her intelligent gaze over the youth before her. The only word to describe the _jeunesse_ was pretty. He had a face of the finest bone structure, creating high cheekbones and plump lips. His eyebrows were elegantly arched and the curious, whiskey amber eyes had a generous frame of lashes. Altogether it was a very feminine face, and if she didn't know better she could have easily thought him a girl. Despite the delicate set of the features, she couldn't mistake the firm set of the chin, the strength behind those eyes. "Trust is a great gift one person can give another; tell me can you be trusted?"

Danielle fought the urge to raise a cynical eyebrow; it would ruin the impression Giry had of her. Her? Trustworthy? Well yes, overall she was, but it only went so far as her friends. If any information given here could benefit Danielle or her boys in any way, she wouldn't hesitate to share it.

"The Phantom was in love with the beautiful Miss Daaé. But he was denied her love. On the night of the Opera's demise, he took Miss Daaé and attempted to force her love. When he realised that any love from her would be false love, and he was only making her miserable, he released her." She looked about the room for a moment. "It was believed that the Phantom died that night. He has not been seen since."

"And you Madame Giry? What do you believe?" Her gaze snapped to Danielle sharply and Danielle cursed herself, in her curiosity she had forgot her common accent and forgone the boyish lilt she usually appropriated.

"I do not believe a Phantom can die _enfant_." She replied simply. Madame Giry turned and made to leave the doorway, but as she left, she tossed a parting sentence over her shoulder. "But no one else was able to enter this room after."

Danielle looked over the chaos of the room for a while longer, suddenly the state of it made sense. She had been able to get in true, _but why would anyone else come in here simply to trash it?_ The Phantom or Ghost, whatever, had come in here to try and work off the anger of her betrayal. That explained the untouched mirror, the rose, and the cape. Danielle shuddered, the cape she had _slept_ under. All the random slashes now stood out to her eyes as the cuts of a blade, or specifically a rapier.

The story was coming together, but Danielle still felt there were some gaping holes in the picture and she wished to put them together. Her eyes locked with the mirror, behind it lay a passage that probably led to wherever the hell he had taken Daaé that night. Once again, she was faced with two parts of herself- one that said go and one that said look elsewhere. She struggled for a moment. Finally she squared her shoulders and strode to the glass. Danielle scowled at it before she _once again_ worked it open. Every time, opening the damn thing it got easier.

She didn't hesitate this time and she stepped into the darkness. Picking the torch from the brazier, she lit it with a match and as it caught fire and flames leapt to life she held it up. The light illuminated the corridor eerily, shadows dancing just out of reach of the light. She peered down the seemingly endless passage, and took a step forward. Another soon followed, and another and so forth. Pretty soon, she was moving at a steady pace, her torch flickering over the walls driving back the darkness.

Time passed slowly, or quickly- Danielle wasn't sure. She didn't own a timepiece and there was no sun to track the day's progress. However, as she moved her torch began to sputter, it shrank and then suddenly. 'Sput!" and it went out. Everything was plunged into darkness, darkness so cold and claustrophobic it reminded her of a thick velvet blanket. Danielle swore colorfully. Frankly, the rats were surprised the air didn't light up with the sparks from the language she was using.

Willing a halt to her curses Danielle tried to take stock. As far as she could tell, she had been travelling in a straight line, so technically all she had to do was turn around, keep a hand on the wall and retrace her steps. Thinking this she followed her instructions and moved off back the way she had come. While Danielle liked the shadows, a place she felt most comfortable, she hated complete stifling darkness. For there to be shadows there must be light, a beckon in the distance. Darkness was the absence of all light. It was thick and oppressive and leeched all the warmth from the air.

A relieved sigh wrenched from her lips as she stepped from the darkness into the shadows, the light from the open mirror calling her forth. Danielle left the torch in the passage and stepped into the room, flooded with light. Immediately she felt warmer, though exposed in the direct light. Yes, shadows were definitely Danielle's domain.

She would have to get her hands on a lamp before she ventured into there again, and maybe a good length of wood. Sliding the now unprotesting mirror closed, she turned from it and headed out of the room, content to do some more snooping elsewhere.


	4. Chapter 4, Einy Meany Miny Moe

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Four)}**

_WTF!!_ Danielle thought as she nearly lost her footing up in the flies. She looked down to where the offending noise had nearly cost Danielle her life, or at least serious bodily harm. With a wrist wrapped with rope, she leaned precariously over, pretty much at a 45-degree angle to the ground as she watched.

Apparently, the Prima Dona, Carlotta Giudicelli, had been unable to find work anywhere else and had come back to the Opera Populaire, the only place that would take her. The stage had been pretty much cleared of the work that had been going on the day before. After all, the repairs were almost finished. The main body of the work had been moved into one of the dance halls so that rehearsals could begin and auditions could take place.

Carlotta was now doing her best impersonation of a strangled duck as she practiced for her next leading role. Danielle wasn't much interested in opera. The music could sometimes be beautiful and with the right singer, often fantastic, but her preference of music was a bit more futuristic; the tunes she'd whistle while she worked were often alien to anything people of this era listened to. _But then again_, she admitted to herself, _I've never heard any worthwhile singing_. And she flinched as Carlotta strangled another note.

Danielle had an overwhelming urge to drop a sandbag on the woman as she attempted to hit an ever-elusive high note. She cringed as her ears protested and she drew back from the angle she had been hanging at.

So far, Danielle had snooped all over the main floor. Her next stop was box five. Whispers she had overheard proclaimed this as _his_ personal box so she figured it was a sure bet for another passage. She had already discovered a subtly hidden trap door in the flies, as well as a cleverly devised rope ladder hidden amongst some seemingly random hanging lines. Danielle had followed the rope ladder- it had led to up amongst the breezy rafters and nothing else. She hadn't gone through the trap door since it had been completely dark and a tentative investigation had proved the ladder decayed and rotten. It was put on the to-do list, for once she'd acquired a length of rope and a lamp.

Wishing she had a set of earplugs, Danielle swung deftly from one rope to another, swung up into a rope bridge, made a flying leap to her left, and caught a waiting rope. She let the rope slip through her hand as she swung her feet caught a ledge. Her right hand shot out and grasped a handhold. She let the rope go and sidled along the ledge.

She came to a newly repaired carving, the face of the carving set in a permanent expression of torturous pleasure. She made a face at the thing as she climbed over it. No one seemed to notice Danielle's spider like journey across the multiple carvings and they made marvellous handholds for her. Though admittedly, she found herself blushing when she found it necessary to grasp things she would otherwise avoid grasping. Finally, she had only to swing her slight figure into the shadowed interior of box five.

Once her feet were firmly on level ground she began looking around. Always look for the obvious first, then the subtle, then the gregarious. Everything looked just like the other box seats. Danielle was rapidly getting sick of plush red and gold.

She'd checked in on the boys as she'd moved through the building. They'd all been given tasks, though they'd stuck to their pairs. Blake, when she'd spotted him, had been having a nice chat with Meg. Danielle smirked. If the girl knew anything Blake would have charmed it out of her by lunch.

_Okay so obvious wasn't a go, subtle next._ Danielle told herself as she moved to the single chair placed in the box. She nudged it gently and it moved. It wasn't bolted down or anything. She immediately crossed it off the list. She turned to the banister and her eyes saw nothing so she closed her whiskey eyes and beginning at one side close to the wall, she ran her hands over it. Working slowly across, her hands mapped it out. She reached the other end and still nothing. Danielle snapped her eyes open with a frustrated 'humph!'

She looked to the walls; there were some gilt wall sconces. There were four. She began on the first one. By the fourth she was just further annoyed, still nothing. She tried everything, the paintings, the carvings, even the door itself. Only one way left; gregarious.

So, something so obvious it was ludicrous, something that pretty much shouted it was a secret passageway. She looked around speculatively, then mentally shifted down into the romanticist mind of an over dramatic queen. _There!_ She brought her mind back from that chillingly simple version and reaching out a hand seized the rope tassel that was supposed to close the box curtains with a simple tug.

Bracing herself, Danielle gave a sharp pull to the rope, immediately the world went black as the floor opened under her and she plummeted down. She was smart enough to realise this was due to lack of light rather than lack of consciousness in the split second it took before she registered a rope passing close by. She caught it and her fall came to a jerky halt, almost prying her arm off. She bit back a pained cry and tried easing her weight onto the other arm, letting the sore one dangle. She looked down and would have cursed but refrained. Darkness. Again.

She was thoroughly sick of darkness. Nevertheless, it appeared to Danielle's mind that now, down was the only way to go; particularly since up would be a painful experience with her arm throbbing like it was. The rope slid through her hand at a measured pace as she lowered herself down. She did not like the damp she could feel all around at all.

Finally, her boots hit ground and everything was no longer pure darkness; an ethereal glow seemed to fill the… _catacombs._ Danielle realised. She was in the catacombs beneath the opera house. Well, at least she now knew that that rumour was true. The Ghost used the catacombs to get around, or at least he had.

Massaging her shoulder, she glanced around uncertainly. There were a number of exits and Danielle had no clue which one to take. Finally she shrugged, _einy meany miny moe._ She started into the one she had picked at random and traipsed through the damp catacomb. She turned a corner and nearly jumped a mile in the air at what she saw. There was a lit torch sitting in its wall brace, crackling away and casting light over the area. Instinctively, Danielle drew back into the shadows.

Someone else was down there, someone else had lit the torch, and someone else could be close by. Danielle gnawed on her lip nervously; she could hold her own in a fight but the rumours she had heard were working against her.

_Pfft! What are you thinking, Christ your 'Daniel' Girl. Get. A. Grip._ She felt her confidence back her up and with a smug smile flitting across her face she sauntered forward, hands shoved in her pockets.

Danielle moved past the torch, her eyes flickering to it for an instant. Sure enough, as she had guessed there was another one placed strategically further along the passage. Her smile turned into a full-fledged smirk.

Five torches later and she came to another lot of passage entries. She groaned in frustration, but then she heard something. It was the distinct sound of Tony berating someone, no doubt for insulting Verence. She grinned. "Booyah!" she exclaimed as she moved into the passage the sounds came from. She felt momentary panic tug at her as her voice echoed chaotically about, but then she shrugged it off and moved on.

Perhaps if she had turned around she may have seen the brief flicker of a black cape as the owner shrank into the darkness.

Eyes glowered at the boy that had dared enter his domain. He'd expected some intrusion with all the repairs to his Opera house - He pushed the pang of guilt at his part in the destruction to the back of his mind with all his other guilt's - but not someone actively hunting down his entrances! That this impertinent male dared to try anything of the sort angered him. Surely, he knew the tales! Why, the smug bastard didn't even keep his hand at the level of his eyes! With a silent snarl, he prowled after the intruder, keeping himself hidden and an eye on Daniel.

Hair prickled along Danielle's neck and she sharply turned her head to the side, her peripheral vision revealed nothing but flickering shadows. She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to relieve the tension there; no go she was still as tense as a piano string.

Tony's voice was getting closer, _and more heated_, she noted. With a snort at the ferocity of the slight male she came to a flight of steep stone steps. She eyed them for a moment but then with a curl of her lip she set to and began to climb them, grunting at some points where they abruptly grew steeper. Eventually she came to a trap door, she pushed against it experimentally. It gave, slightly. Danielle set her good shoulder against it and heaved, rocking her weight from foot to foot to try and wiggle the door looser. It resisted and then sprang open sending her sprawling into the semi light. She climbed to her feet and looked about her, she was in one of those small closets spare equipment and the like were stored. _So this was a subtle entry_, she thought, glancing back at the open trapdoor set into the floor so that closed, it looked like it didn't exist. Because there was no way to open it this side, she assumed it was an exit only. She gripped the door and looked back into the shadows of the passage; "You might want to oil these hinges!" she hollered into the darkness and slammed it shut loudly.

She bolted once it was closed, slipping out of the closet and moseying down the hall outside as if it was nothing special. Sure enough, it worked and no one took notice. As if Danielle hadn't known someone was following. One didn't grow up snooping around and not learn certain things.

Not far away, she came upon what had originally drawn her; Tony was yelling at some prissy ballerina who looked like she was about ready to a) bolt or b) have a mental breakdown. "Tony! Down boy!" She barked ambling to Verence's side. He was watching with mild amusement.

Immediately Tony's voice died in his throat and with a final glare designed to kill, he came back to his big comrade. Danielle shook her head hopelessly at the smug look stretched across his face. "What was it this time?" she asked the quiet Verence.

"They'd strapped potatoes on their faces and were mocking him." Tony answered for him, as he was so apt to do.

"Them?" She asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

"The others bolted and left her to deal with our little ball of fury." Verence's voice was thick and somewhat slow but he pronounced his words well and clearly. Currently amusement laced his tone.

"Where the hell did you come from anyway?" Tony spoke, looking Danielle up and down and noting the damp patches on her clothes.

Danielle grinned, "Just verifying some rumours. Oh and the one about the catacombs is true, by the way." With that and a backwards wave, she strode casually away, just a fraction short of strutting.

He stood amongst the rafters, watching the insolent boy strut about like some alpha dog. He ground his teeth in frustration; obviously, the people had lost a healthy amount of respect for him. He had intended to take something of a back seat, ease back into the opera way before he took up the reigns again and reassert his… dominance. However, this boy and his cronies were already getting under his skin, and had only been around for less than 48 hours. Still, he admitted to himself, there was something about the boy that had earned his respect if nothing else. He definitely had guts, and he was sharp, having noticed his presence back in the passage.

Danielle made her way discretely into the kitchens where she pilfered an apple, some cheese, and a hunk of bread before she went back to the flies. She ate her lunch amongst the ropes and walkways, watching the display below as Carlotta had another fit. Tonight, she had decided, she would go through the mirror.


	5. Chapter 5, Brave Young Fledgling

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Five)}**

Thoughts raced through Danielle's mind right at this moment. Paramount amongst them was, _Glad I thought to bring this cape._ It sat snug around her shoulders, protecting her from the frigid cold that seemed to seep through the walls. This time she held in her hand a lamp; the light cheerily shone out and lit the path ahead.

She would have been whistling but Danielle thought it best not to, not after she'd been followed the last time. The day had been fairly dull after her lunch; she had gone searching for more passageways after a few hours in which she simply spent slipping amongst the people and listening in.

As always, such activities had awarded her with some more interesting information and the location of three more passageways. At some point, she managed to get her hands on some paper and a piece of charcoal, whereby she had begun a rough map detailing where the passageways were from memory. Danielle would, once she had completed this exploration, put it to paper as well.

She did a little hop skip, feeling excitement bubbling through her stomach. At some point, the apprehensive chill had become so persistent she had simply grown used to it and no longer felt the anxiety curling along her spine.

"Insolent boy! This slave of masters, smug in your adventures!  
Ignorant fool! This brave, young, fledgling prying in my domain!" Danielle stopped in her tracks as the voice echoed around the passage, the deep vibrancy of the voice sending her bones clattering. It was strong and menacing, almost whipping through the atmosphere with ferocity behind those perfectly sung words.

_Not good._ She thought as she strained her eyes to try and pierce the shadows leaping at the edge of her light. _Though perfect pitch,_ she added sarcastically as goosebumps prickled her skin in reaction to the adrenalin sharpening her senses.

The silence hung as if expecting something. She snorted once she got the hint, "Sorry but I don't sing." She made sure to amp the cocksure note in her tone, with her customary boyish pitch.

Her answer was a snarl, which Danielle noted was perfectly pitched and resounded with cultured tones despite the implicit threat.

She grinned into the darkness, her teeth white and brilliant. She heard a 'swoosh' and instinctively she ducked and tucking a shoulder rolled swiftly, back on her feet in an instant. She glanced at the wall she had been standing in front of moments before and a rapier was imbedded in one of the wooden supports, the end still wobbling. But what caught Danielle's attention was the noose looped over the sword, swinging gently. She narrowed her eyes on the noose and snapped her eyes around her quickly- no detectable movement. Danielle went to the rapier and gripping the hilt tugged the sword out, slightly surprised at just how deep the blade had gone. She took the noose and tossed it away from her, inspecting the sword.

She was better with her fists, having mastered the art of street fighting long ago, but she could wield a sword at least partly competently. Sword in hand, lamp swinging from the other, Danielle glared defiantly ahead and took up her steady march down the passage.

She was partly relieved and partly disappointed when nothing happened, having half expected some insane lunatic to jump out at her, sword flashing. Instead, she was faced with more passageways, all dank and dark. Danielle sighed exasperatedly, feeling the adrenalin drain from her system when the boredom of it worked its magic.

She perked up slightly as light illuminated the end. Danielle identified them as torches as she drew nearer. Further inspection showed her that she had reached a stone stairway. She followed it down, following the cylindrical curve of it. She reached a small landing, and then some more stairs that went off in a different direction, no longer curving around like the last. Danielle, starting to dislike stairs, came across an archway. Slipping through it, she abruptly found herself at an odd stone dock. It was well kept and there were metal rings suggesting a boat was often moored here. However, there was no boat in sight and the water looked down right disgusting. It was greener than any other colour and Danielle would hazard a guess that it was as arctic in there as the centre of hell.

There was no way in hell she was going in there. That left her no option but to turn around. Grumbling, she did that and began to trek back to the mirror entrance. The trip back seemed twice as long and the cape no longer seemed able to ward away the cold. In a sour mood, Danielle finally made it back to the room. She stepped through the mirror and placed the lamp down on the dresser. She studied the mirror a moment, and then looked down at the sword in her hand. Compressing her lips she wrenched the dagger still imbedded in the dresser from its place and placed the sword across the surface. She trudged back to the mirror and slid it closed. Danielle bent down by the bottom edge of the huge mirror and studied the wooden frame for a moment before swooping her hand up and driving the dagger in as far as she could into the left corner. She drove it in so that it was as close to the mirror as possible. Danielle stood up and tried to slide the mirror open again, it wouldn't budge. Smirking she tried for 5 minutes to open it, with no luck.

She nodded her head; no one would be able to get in or out until that dagger was removed. It was still early in the evening; the tradesmen would currently be enjoying their supper supplied by the kitchens. Danielle had eaten earlier, wanting to get an early and uninterrupted start through the mirror.

But since that had proved bust, though she had picked up a sword and now knew for certain that certain persons existed, Danielle figured she'd visit the boys. Pausing only to drape the mirror again, she left the room, leaving the lamp on low so she could find it later.

***

"So the game's on boys." Danielle said looking around the table that had, until she'd shown up, been the most rambunctious and loud one in the hall that had become the mess hall until construction was over. "He has made the first threat and knows who I am; I wouldn't be surprised if we hear from him within the near future." She had retold her tale of her journey through the mirror, she had watched in some amusement as faces had tightened at how close Danielle had come to being skewered by a sword. It gave her a glowing sense of pleasure at their obvious concern.

"So you've got the man's sword?" Blake asked, smiling proudly.

"Yep, pretty funky looking sword too." She said conjuring an image to mind. "The cross-guard's this really intricate skull design."

"Did he seriously expect you to sing?" Frank asked, his face priceless.

"Well, when he snarled at me because I told him I'm not musically inclined, 'cept in less polite words, I'd take that as a yes." Danielle sniggered.

Suddenly there was a loud crash, followed by some overdramatic screams. Immediately Danielle's table jumped to their feet and rushed towards the sound. It led them to the floor seats of the stage. One of the artisans was on the ground groaning, rubbing his back with a pained expression. A pretty blonde girl was the cause of the screams, immediately she was attended to by one of the twins. Danielle was too preoccupied with the man to notice which twin.

Kneeling by him she asked him a series of questions, prodding him when her questions called for it. "Well sir, you're not broken; bruised yes, broken no." Danielle climbed to her feet, hauling the craftsman after her. Signalling Verence, the man was soon being supported by the large youth and led off to the mess hall. Danielle began a close inspection of the harness that had failed the man and sure enough, the rope had been cut. It was too clean to be anything else.

Other people had filed in as the story spread- whispers of a man almost plummeting to his death passed from lips to ears, the discreet suggestion that it was not an accident in the precise sense of the word. Madame Giry was amongst them and using some subtle but affective jabs of her elbow, she made it to the centre of the spectacle. The first thing her eyes met was the figure of the pretty boy. What was his name? Daniel. That was it.

Danielle looked up when she felt a calculating gaze on her. She was not at all surprised to see the elegant but rigid posture of one Madame Giry. Flashing a brilliant amused smile at her Danielle straightened from her inspection. Harness in hand she went to Giry and held it out. With a finely plucked eyebrow raised, Giry took it from her hands and quickly scrutinized the equipment. Danielle was able to pinpoint the exact moment when realisation dawned across the woman's face.

A small flutter of sound caught Danielle's attention and turning, she witnessed the almost hypnotic descent of a thick parchment envelope. It touched home with a soft sound and waited patiently to be picked up. Not sure why she moved with caution, Danielle stepped forward and retrieved the envelope. Turning it over in her hands, she was presented with a bright wax seal in the shape of a human skull.

This had been another of those rumours, that outside of song or threat, the Phantom often chose to communicate through notes. Danielle looked over to Madame Giry, who had gone ashen white, her gaze riveted to the envelope. She looked back at the envelope and sliding a finger under the paper, she broke the seal with a soft crack. She swore she felt a universal intake of air rise from the crowd.

The note she pulled from the envelope was written in curly, elegant script. Her eyes jumped across the message rapidly. Her brow furrowed. She looked up at the expectant crowd and then back at the message. Deciding to keep up the charade of simple-minded boy she held it out to Madame Giry, flashing a heart melting apologetic smile.

Giry narrowed her eyes; she was smarter than Danielle had first given her credit for. Nevertheless, she went along with the gesture and took the note. She read the note and then looked up and around. "Daniel was it? Come with me," she said briskly, gesturing in a theatrical gesture. Danielle nodded once and followed meekly as Giry strode from the vast room.

"He's back, and you've angered him," she remarked as they wound through the opera house.

Danielle shrugged. "I don't have a problem with that, and I hope he knows he's not getting that sword back anytime soon."

Madame Giry smiled, amused despite herself.

The two of them, one obviously a woman and the other well disguised, travelled the rest of the way in silence. Before long, they were in the office of one Henry Jacobson.

He was a round jolly looking man, his face red and his head balding. His ears could have passed for cabbages, surrounded by receding, rust-red hair. His eyes, a kind of washed out blue, were canny and intelligent. However, in truth Henry was a little daft. He was American born and bred, and having made his fortune through coffee plantations, he had moved to Paris to try and absorb some culture and upper class sophistication.

He had bought the opera house on impulse, assuming that doing so would immediately rocket him up the social standings in Paris. He was partly correct; he was indeed more respected. However, it was mainly because half of Paris believed him down right ballsy to buy the place and the other thought him a great amusement.

Danielle doubted he knew much of the opera world, or that he even enjoyed it. It was simply something the rich and famous did, so she guessed he believed he must do it.

"Ahh Madame Giry! A pleasure as always. But what is this, you've brought me a boy?" he asked, running his gaze over the slight man, or boy. It was uncanny; the body said boy, but the eyes and set of the chin said man.

"Oui monsieur. The boy was the second on the scene of an 'accident'" The way she said accident implied so much more. Naturally, Henry had been filled in on the place's history, though not until _after_ the sale had been made final. Immediately his gut tightened up.

"Yes?" he asked nervously. Danielle noticed the sweat build on his forehead in interest.

"Thankfully, only a craftsman was bruised. But following in its wake was this." Madame Giry handed over the note. Stuffing her gloved hands in her pockets, Danielle listened idly as the man began to read out loud.

_My Dearest Friend,_

_Welcome to my opera, Monsieur Jacobson. I trust you will know your place, unlike my previous Managers; such troublesome men. _

_I apologise for my absence up until this time, but as I am sure you have heard, I had my reasons._

_I realise that with repairs still in progress, a performance would not be expedient at such a time. When I deem it is such a time, I will announce the next opera._

_As always, I expect box 5 to be kept empty for me, and my salary is due within the next few days. _

_On a last note, a young lad; No doubt the first to discover this note and currently listening to your predictable narration, has been prying where he is likely to acquire a snapped neck. I warn him now I will not be so lenient next time, and I expect my sword returned to me by later this evening. Since he had no trouble gaining access to my box he may leave it there. _

_I remain, good people, your obedient servant,_

_O.G_.

Danielle grinned smugly.

"You are a great actor child, your charade this morning was a great feat of showmanship," Madame Giry said austerely, eyes centred on Danielle. A shrug was her answer.

"How much, exactly, does this… Ghost require?" Jacobson was an easily spooked man, and the prospect of the Phantom coming after him set a dead weight in the pit of his stomach.

"Traditionally he was given Twenty Thousand francs a month," Madame Giry replied, slanting a look at Daniel.

"Right, right." His voice was nervous, Danielle noted, full of reluctant submission. "I suppose we can afford that. Daniel was your name, boy? You can deliver the salary when you drop off the sword."

Danielle resolutely kept her eyebrows level; no way in hell was she giving back that sword. Nevertheless, the task would give her a good excuse to get back in the box.

Madame Giry caught the twinkle quickly extinguished in Daniel's eye, and a kernel of worry began to flourish in her gut.


	6. Chapter 6,Will Not Allow It To Forget Me

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Six)}**

_Bloody hell this sack is annoying,_ Danielle thought as she once again swung her body into box 5. She took the sack from where she had it clenched between her teeth to leave her hands free to climb. She'd brought the sword as well, sheathed in a spare scabbard she had "borrowed" from the dress room. It was belted around her slim waist- begrudgingly she'd to pierce a new hole for the thing to fit.

On safe ground, or rather as safe as it was going to get, Danielle ambled over to the seat and lounged indolently. The way she saw it, she had two options: wait here for his spectre ass to show up, or- her eyes flickered to the tassel- go looking for him.

Danielle was well aware she was risking her life. She had heard stories of the Phantom killing without thought when it suited him. Nevertheless, Danielle had always trusted her instincts and this was one of those times. For some inexplicable reason she felt compelled to look this supposed threat in the eye and adjudicate him for herself.

Time trickled past; the candles had long been doused on the stage and amongst the seats. A few lamps were left for the couples that met in the shadows, and so Danielle sat comfortably among the dimness, tapping the fingers of her right hand against her trouser clad thigh.

Danielle huffed, aggravated. She was getting bored. Almost as if that was a signal, a broad shouldered silhouette stepped out of what Daniel had thought was a normal wall panel. _Well, that must be an exit, like the closet trap door,_ Daniel thought going tense in her seat. As the panel slid back into place, the silhouette looked up; his mask glowed dully in the shadows. Danielle's breath caught in her throat, tingles shooting down her spine.

Even in the shadows he was a fine specimen. Danielle's whiskey amber eyes made short work of examining him, observing and memorizing as many details as possible in an automatic reaction. He had broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist, his build easily visible because of the tight black trousers he'd donned and the casual white frilled V-neck shirt he wore. The Phantom wore a thick velvet cape over it all; naturally, it was black.

He looked lean and agile, but still managed to portray great strength. Danielle observed the shiny knee high boots he wore, punching up the affect of his calf muscles. His hands were adorned with tight leather gloves. Finally Danielle went in for the big one, his face.

The mask was made of a material Danielle couldn't identify; it reminded her of paper, leather, and porcelain all at once. It just about covered half of his face, slanting off at just above his full upper lip. The portion visible was darkly handsome, the eyes glittering menacingly at Danielle as she stared back at him. The chin was strong, the cheekbones defined, his brow was thick but still managed to look elegant. His hair was a thick raven black, slicked back perfectly not a hair out of place. When he began to advance towards Danielle, she noticed he moved gracefully with a confidence in his step she admired.

She rose from her seat, her eyes locked with his. He just about prowled around her, as if he was circling his prey. Danielle quirked an eyebrow, her amusement curling the left corner of her lips.

She was almost knocked down when his answer was a smirk. She went through two torrent emotions. One was a purely feminine thrill at the utter sensual curl of his lips, the other shock that he actually had a sense of humour at all.

"You're either very brave or very ignorant boy." His voice was like liquid silk and washed over Danielle's senses, dulling her mind for a fraction of second. Gritting her teeth, she fought to throw off the effect he was having on her, for the first time in her life cursing her gender.

No man, let's emphasize that shall we?

**No Man**

Had ever had such an affect in her life. And Danielle had been around some extremely attractive men in her life.

Her mind sharp again, she shrugged negligently. "There are some that will tell you I'm one or both."

His uncovered brow rose, "I see you have my sword." He gestured with one long fingered but deadly strong hand at the sword swinging from her hip.

"Yep." Danielle answered, placing a hand over the hilt.

He smiled slowly, causing Danielle to have to fight off a fit of butterflies.

"You are the most infuriating, defiant, and yet fascinating individual I have met in a long time." He said casually drawing a twin sword from his own sheath.

Immediately Danielle shifted her feet and drew the sword she carried. He studied her for a moment, the exact colour of his eyes indistinguishable in the shadows. Sword held out in front of her, she waited for his move, beginning to feel twitchy under his scrutiny.

The Phantom suddenly lashed out in perfect form, an attack Danielle was only just able to rather sloppily bat away from her torso. He immediately followed it up by another slash, aimed for her left thigh to cripple her movement. With a grimace, Danielle dodged out of the way, realizing that he was far better at swords than she would ever be and would have to rely on her speed and agility.

He came at her rapidly, much faster than she thought possible and delivered a series of lunges and slashes. By luck and an innate sense of timing, she was able to avoid them, though often she was rewarded with a few nicks from the tempered blade.

She fought grimly, knowing that he would kill her given the chance by the glitter in his hard and distant eyes.

Danielle yelped as he sliced a shallow groove down the right side of her ribcage, blood immediately staining her shirt. Her heart rate tripled as she realized that not only was she getting tired, loosing blood, he had sliced through the bandage that kept her chest bound, but that he still fought as easily and elegantly as if they had not been fighting rather viciously for the past 30 minutes.

She scowled at the amusement playing across his features, finally noting that he was simply playing with her. "Bastard," She snarled between breaths.

He openly grinned now, making another elegant lunge aimed at her shoulder. She ducked and rolled out from under the blade and came up slashing at him. Taken by surprise he moved a fraction too late and the sleeve of his shirt was slashed, though his skin remained untouched.

Suddenly Danielle felt something different in the way they fought, he was no longer trying to hurt her just keep her on the defensive. She spared a chancy glance into his eyes and found them studying her, narrowed in thought as he easily blocked her every move in an almost automatic motion.

In an instant, he'd locked the twin swords and halted her motion. With a deft wrench, he had her nose to nose with him over their locked swords. His eyes bore into hers and she was vaguely aware of his scent, unsurprised to find she quiet liked it and it was reminiscent of the abandoned cape.

Her eyes went round and her pupils dilated as she felt a moment of intense pain and then she felt nothing, thought nothing, saw nothing as her world turned black.

center****/center

_Am I dead? Am I in Hell? No, I don't think so. Hell is not so cozy and comfy,_ Danielle thought lazily, seeing nothing but darkness. After a moment of waiting, she became aware of the sensation of soft warm blankets against her skin, padding beneath her back and a searing pain down her side and a throbbing one on the back of her head.

Realizing that she saw nothing because her eyes were closed, she pried them open only to immediately close them. _Bloody light,_ Danielle grumbled to herself. Tentatively, she opened her eyes again; keeping them squinted against the searing light.

Once her eyes had grown use to the light she opened them fully and glanced around her. She was in some kind of cavern, splayed haphazardly under the blankets of a ridiculously swan shaped bed. Jerking fully awake as the last moments before she blacked out flooded her memory, she quickly took stock of herself. She was still fully clothed; her breast binding was by some miracle, though loose, still tight enough to fool a casual glance. Looking down, Danielle grimaced; blood stained most of the right side of her shirt and she felt the cloth had stuck to the blood, tugging painfully whenever she moved in a certain way.

A headache pounded at the back of her eyeballs and she reached a hand up to feel the back of her skull. Sure enough, a huge lump met her fingers and Danielle scowled darkly. She threw the covers off her, noting that her boots and cap had been removed and placed by the end of the bed. Slipping them on, groaning with the stabs of pain from both her headache and side, she stood up. A wave of dizziness crashed down on her and her hand reached out and gripped the first stable thing it could to stop her collapse. She waited for the moment to pass. Blinking rapidly once it had, she looked at what she'd grabbed. It was the edge of a table; sitting on the table was a charming Persian-garbed Monkey. She studied it. Gently she touched the face of the toy, caressing it with the tip of her pointer finger. She smiled softly into its face, charmed by the simple child's toy.

Danielle whipped her head around at a sound, gritting her teeth when she was rewarded with another wave of sickening dizziness. Once her vision cleared, she scowled at the figure standing in the bedrooms entrance arch. He had discarded his cape and stood with his arms crossed across his broad chest, those calculating eyes studying Danielle in that unnerving way.

"What the Hell?!" She exclaimed loudly, her voice bouncing off the cavern walls. "Do you plan on torturing me or something more vile?" she spat, straightening to her full height, though that still only brought her eyes level to his collarbone. Thankfully, her tone still had that boyish edge, having used it as a reflex after so many years.

"Mind your mouth _aprendiz,_" He said darkly, lips thinning though not unattractively. It infuriated Danielle that everything this man seemed to do looked attractive to her, but that didn't stop her from hating him for it.

"What does that mean?" Danielle accused, expecting it to be some cutting insult.

She was both thrilled and disgusted when that slow gorgeous smile curved languidly across his sculpted mouth. "It means apprentice."

Danielle's eyes almost popped out of her skull, "What!?" she shouted indignantly though it did not help her headache which suddenly seemed ten times worse. She swayed slightly as nausea leaped to life in her gut. The Phantom strode forward and grasping her upper arm, steering her rather forcefully to sit on the edge of the bed.

_Thinking of him as "the phantom" is becoming tedious and annoying,_ she grumbled to herself as she waited for the urge to throw up to pass.

"What exactly do you mean?" she asked slowly, casting a wary sideways glance at him.

"In my entire existence no one but one man has come anywhere close to wounding me in a duel. He was highly skilled at the sword and though I hate him as strongly as you no doubt do me, I am not shamed that he beat me. But you are a lad of no more than I assume 18 years of age. You are small, weak, and unskilled. You came very close to drawing my blood, as fleeting as it was." He watched Danielle as he spoke, she was slightly distracted by the contrast between his honey toned skin and the stark white of his mask. She wondered how someone who spent all their time in the dark and shadows could acquire such a lovely shade of skin. _Bad Danielle! Get your mind on track!_ She scoffed, "Yeah, so?"

He glowered at her but continued. "As such, you intrigued me. You appear to have a sharp mind and with the right training you could excel in many areas." He shot Danielle a look as she opened her mouth to scoff. She snapped it shut immediately. "I am mortal, just like every other man," he continued. "But my legend is not. It lives and breaths and has a life all its own. It will continue even after I am gone. However, without me, it is likely to become warped and ugly with the passage of time."

_Pfft, cause you haven't done that Oh-So-Well yourself_, Daniel silently bit her cheek to keep this unwelcome comment in as he continued.

"Ergo, I have come to a decision that I must leave someone behind who can keep it alive, who can take my place once I have left.

This opera house has been my existence; I will not allow it to forget me." His eyes had gone hard, two flat sheets of emotionless steel.


	7. Chapter 7, Monkey Magic!

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Seven)}**

Danielle coughed into the silence, "Well uhh, I wasn't expecting that." She confessed. To her shock it earned her a wry smile from the Phantom. "To be honest until you sliced my shirt I had every intention of killing you in cold blood."

Danielle's face drained of colour. He chuckled, a pleasant rumble through his chest that set Danielle's skin crawling, though not with disgust she admitted hating herself for it.

"So let me just get this straight for my heads benefit. By the way, you wouldn't happen to have any headache powder would you? Whatever the hell you did to my skull it feels like something is trying to crawl out." He issued another chuckle, nodding as he rose and moved to a cabinet set into the stone wall.

She took the glass of water he offered when he came back, downing the mixture in one. Danielle grimaced at the texture as she swallowed, disliking the taste just as much. She handed the glass back and began to speak, "So basically you want me, little old me, to be your apprentice. So like you're going to teach me everything you know and not kill me right?" She asked, delighted with herself when he laughed softly.

"Yes that is the general idea." He said placing the glass on the same table as the monkey music box.

"Hmmmm." She said mulling it over. "Do I have much choice?" She finally said looking him full in his eyes; eyes she could now see were a cool turquoise. She had to stop herself from studying the shifting patterns of blue and green she could see in their depths.

"Not really." He replied with a shrug, Danielle had to wrench her eyes away from the subtle play of muscle she could just see thanks to the v of his shirt.

"Harumph." She grumbled, furrowing her brow.

"However this does not mean you have to stay here with me in my lair, as long as you come to me nightly you may continue to move about as usual." The Phantom said, surprising Danielle with his astuteness.

He seemed taken aback by the brilliant grin she tossed his way. "How do you know I won't just book it?" She asked with an amused smile.

"Book it?" He asked, confused.

She chuckled, "Sorry group slang. Vamoose, leave town, run, make my escape etc."

That slow sensual smile was back again, she doubted he realized just how naturally sensual he was. "Because you're not that kind of personality." He said simply.

She swore, colourfully. His eyebrow rose a few inches.

"You know me too well too quickly… jerk." She glowered openly at him.

He smirked, "I make it my business to know the people within my Opera, and I've had reason to study you." He was obviously referring to Danielle's strolls through his catacombs.

"By the way, those are some… Interesting curses you've acquired." He remarked.

"People tend to let loose when they drop a plank of wood on their foot or hit their thumb with a tool." She explained, shrugging it off.

He nodded making an, 'ahhh' sound.

"Oh boy, I did not envision this when I read your note." She confessed rubbing the bridge of her nose in a weary gesture.

"I didn't envision it when I wrote it." He said starting for the archway.

"Hey where are you going." She yelped scrambling to her feet.

He didn't answer and disappeared out the exit. Moving slowly so as not to prompt another dizzy spell Daniel followed him. She stepped out from under the arch onto a balcony reminiscent ledge. She gazed out with fascinated eyes across a green underground lake, mist swirling lazily across the surface. Braziers of candles stood tall out of the water. There was a large archway in the lake; currently a portcullis was closed over it. She moved her gaze onward, drifting past the mounds of candles lighting the space she could see many sketches, models, papers and quills. She spotted the phantom climbing a short flight of stone steps up to a large organ, candlelight flickering across his back further defining his lithe figure. Gulping down the steadily more annoying attack of butterflies she descended the stairs from the platform outside the bedroom and made her way across the stone floor to the flight he had climbed.

She made her way up, her amber eyes locking on the phantom seated at the organ though not playing. "Soooooo." She began nonchalantly, shoving her hands in her pockets. She winced when the action disturbed her side.

"Hey yeah! If I'm to be your apprentice and all that jazz why haven't you tended to my wounds or whatever?" Though she was grateful he hadn't. She couldn't begin to imagine his reaction had he done so.

"The wound was superficial, and your shirt stemmed the blood flow so it was no risk. And henceforth I thought it a good opportunity to test your knowledge, since you will need to know how to tend your injuries yourself."

"Makes sense." She acknowledged casually taking a seat on the top stone step. "Name's Daniel by the way." She offered, realizing that he must be as sick of thinking of her as 'boy' as she was of thinking of him as 'the phantom'.

He smirked secretly, his back to her. "Nice try, you will call me _maître_."

Danielle scowled at his back, "I don't call anyone Master." She waited a beat, "Boss."

'Boss' looked over his shoulder at Danielle, splayed comfortably on the top step. He inclined his head slightly in acceptance. She grinned in response, mentally snickering to herself. She knew he didn't have a clue that the term 'Boss' held no respect when she used the term.

They lapsed into silence, which is until he began to play his organ. The notes rang out strong and pure, Danielle felt she could almost reach out and touch them. Then his voice joined in the melody, twining around the cavern and invading every nook and cranny with the powerful piece of music.

"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation  
Darkness stirs and wakes imagination  
Silently the senses abandon their defences...

Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendour  
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender  
Turn your face away from the garish light of day,  
Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light  
And listen to the music of the night

Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before!  
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!  
And you'll live as you've never lived before...

Softly, deftly, music shall caress you  
Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you  
Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind,  
In this darkness that you know you cannot fight  
The darkness of the music of the night...

Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world!  
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before!  
Let your soul take you where you long to be!  
Only then can you belong to me ...

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication!  
Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation!  
Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in  
To the power of the music that I write  
The power of the music of the night...

Danielle could tell there was more, but for some reason he missed the last two sentences and let the organ replace them before the music faded back into nothing. She shivered, feeling tendrils of the music's power still gripping her. Her breath shuddered out in a breath she had been unaware she'd been holding.

He turned in his seat and watched her dazed expression. To Danielle's eyes he looked proud of the songs affect, but saddened by some long deep hurt. Her whiskey eyes searched his cerulean ones, looking for an answer. He seemed to bristle under her knowing gaze and turned from her back to his keyboard, his shoulders tense.

"Go now, they might be wondering where you are and you need to see to your injuries." His voice sounded brittle, none of the familiarity he had had in it before the song. Danielle for some unfathomable reason felt hurt, but she climbed to her feet and started down the stairs. At the bottom she stopped and made a face, "I would and all, but how in the hell am I suppose to get out of here?"

Danielle heard Boss sigh exasperatedly, "Take the boat and follow the lake out the portcullis. It will take you to a very familiar dock I should think." As he spoke Danielle snapped her head round, thankful the powder had taken affect, as the portcullis began to rise. "How'd you do that?" She asked, curious.

He chuckled despite himself. "I've got a lever up here."

"Right… But ahh you see here's the thing." Danielle began, twiddling her fingers sheepishly. She heard him sigh heavily again before he appeared at the stairs and started down them, "Yes?" His brow was raised.

"I kinda jammed the mirror on the rooms side after you nearly kabob'd me." She explained, grinning into his face awkwardly.

He grumbled, accompanied with some words she couldn't distinguish. "Fine, come-on." He brushed past her to a clothes peg protruding from a wall, his cape hanging from it. He swirled it on, settling it snugly across his shoulders. Boss turned to Danielle, "I'll show you to the closet trapdoor, you should know the one." Was it her imagination or did the eye shadowed by the mask just wink? She shook it off and followed Boss as he strode away. She stopped and blinked a moment. He had disappeared? His head popped seemingly out of the wall, Danielle nearly jumped 10 foot. Her face must have looked hilarious because he laughed loudly, it was the first real laugh she'd heard from him and it set her nerves thrilling to the sound.

It was a deep crescendo of sound, silky and warm Danielle fancied it was the best sound she'd heard second to his singing.

Tentatively she stepped towards him and looked closely at the wall. There was actually a door cut into the stone, but the wall it led through to was the exact shade and texture of the caverns and so the affect was it all looked like one wall. It was actually quiet clever, like Danielle had said before: the best place to hide something was out in the open. She stepped through and saw two passages leading off in both directions, further doors leading off of those passages etc.

"How do you remember your way through these things?" She asked, immensely curious.

As he led the way he snagged a torch from one of the mounts. "It's all about sound and currents."

"Huh?" She said dumbly, mystified for the moment.

His chuckle echoed and rolled in the passage. "The air currents all move towards empty space, and since amongst the catacombs my lair is the largest empty space they all move towards it. So if you're ever stuck simply follow the currents." As he said this he held up the lit torch, the flame flickered and then bent with the current, the orange flame almost pointing towards the direction they'd come.

"Sounds are a bit more complex; because there is an air current moving constantly through the passages if you listen closely you can hear the whisper of a tone. Each passage has a different tone and I've memorized them to the point where I can navigate the place in the pitch dark simply by listening." Okay Danielle would have to admit it. She was impressed. She made a grudging sound in her throat, hoping the Boss wouldn't recognize it for what it was.

But he did and he forced back another smile as he simply stepped over a puddle, refraining from laughing as he heard Daniel curse when he stepped in it. When he had first seen the boy waiting for him in his box he had nothing but murder on his mind, but when Daniel had by some miracle managed to slip as agile as any expert swordsman past his defences and come so close to wounding him his mind had changed. All at once the idea of a legacy had hatched in his mind and Daniel had seemed like the perfect choice. He was smart and witty, though perhaps a little unrefined. Daniel was slight and short but he might as well call himself a hypocrite if he passed him on because of that, after all he had his own curse working against him.

He forced back another smile instead knitting his brow as Daniel told off a passing rat for looking at him 'like that.'

It was amazing; he had never felt this at ease or had the urge to laugh and smile so much in his life. He had a sneaking suspicion it was because of Daniel's charm, it seemed to manhandle a person out of their shell whether they wanted to or not. _His eyes though,_ the thought popped rebelliously into his head as Daniel's image came unbidden to his minds eye. Daniel's eyes seemed to hold the knowledge of the world within them.


	8. Chapter 8, Contracted

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Eight)}**

Danielle groaned when Boss stepped aside to allow her access to the steep set of stairs she was unfortunately well acquainted with. At the top was the trap door that she would exit via, but she was not looking forward to the climb with her side aching so greatly. "This is going to be hell," She stated as she set her foot on the first step. "You better have oiled those hinges." She grumbled as she started up, wincing as each step stretched her side. A smile flittered across her face as she heard Boss' laugh follow her up the stairs.

Finally she reached the trap door and when she pushed against it, it moved smoothly and easily. She smirked; he'd taken her advice. She clambered out, taking care not to knock her side and closed the door behind her, lowering it to the ground with care. Standing in the closet she took a moment to catch her breath before she slipped out into the dark hallway. She began the trek back to her room, cringing with each jarring step.

She heaved a weary sigh as she came across another flight of steps; the damn things were haunting her. By the time she'd reached the next level Danielle was feeling decidedly light headed and the nausea was back. She stumbled forward, determined to get to her room and crash. She made it about halfway before she was stopped by the most unlikely, or perhaps most predictable thing in the world.

Madame Giry stepped out of a room, locking the door behind her with a ring of keys. Her eyes widened when she took in the sight of Danielle and Danielle had to mentally curse when she remembered how bad she looked. She was covered in blood down one side, she probably looked horribly pail and feeble, and she was aware of some smudges of dirt and wet patches from the trek through the catacombs. But such worries seemed inane when she found her center of balance suddenly at an alarming angle. Danielle felt herself sway and she almost collapsed, her would be fall was cut short as she instead fell limply into the surprisingly strong arms of Madame Giry.

She looked weakly up at the maturing woman, and as she faded into a dreamless blackness her last thought was, _This is becoming repetitive._

*****

She regained consciousness in a dimly lit room, one that smelt slightly spicy and not unpleasant. She groaned as her side throbbed, though Danielle felt no dizziness. Opening her eyes she found herself once again in a bed, though this one was a normal bed and the sheets felt like cotton, not the silk Boss had on his. Unfortunately she realized something else, the sensation of cotton against her skin wasn't simply against her arms or feet. No; she could feel the material rasping against her bare belly and thighs. To make matter worse her chest was free of the binding tension she was so use too. _Bad, bad, bad, bad!_ she thought, clutching the blankets to her chest and looking about her wildly.

As panic started to creep up on Danielle Madame Giry stepped into the room. The woman noticed immediately that Danielle was awake and looked half wild. "Calm down child, your secret is safe with me," She said softly, moving to the bedside. Danielle made an effort to calm down, gulping in large breathes to try and slow her heart.

"Now let go of the blankets, I have to check your side. You've been asleep most of the night and day you know." She gently but firmly pried the covers off Danielle, whom relaxed slightly when she realized that she had a light cotton shift on.

"Roll over," Giry ordered brusquely, Danielle recognized the tone and obeyed. She knew better than to go against that tone.

She felt Madame Giry unbutton the back of the dress and push it to the side just enough to allow her access to the bandaged wound. Danielle winced as the binding was peeled away and Giry peered at the slash. While Danielle had been unconscious Madame Giry had cleaned and bandaged the cut, after getting over the shock of finding her a woman and not a boy.

Satisfied that it was clean and passed the immediate risk of infection she applied some ointment and a fresh dressing. With the ease of long practice she had the shift buttoned back up and she let Danielle roll back over.

"I have many questions, but for now all I want to know is why?"

Danielle smirked, "Why am I a girl masquerading as a boy, or why was I sliced and diced and not dead?"

"Both actually but I'm going to say the former." Madame Giry replied seriously.

Danielle shrugged, "You get more money when you sell a boy to a tradesman than you do a girl to a brothel." Her voice had gone flat.

"But why keep it up?" She pressed, Danielle sighed.

"Because if you look at it logically, I'm better off where I am than if I was discovered."

Madame Giry was silent for a while; Danielle watched her and let the silence lap at her consciousness.

"Yes I suppose you're right." The woman finally admitted, heaving a very feminine sigh.

Danielle grinned, "But of course!"

Madame Giry smiled, "You've been asleep for almost twelve hours since I found you, your friend Blake has been hounding me to let him in to see you."

"Well then let us set me to rights and let him in." Danielle said pushing the covers off her legs and sitting on the edge of the mattress. "I'm going to need a long length of linen and a new shirt and britches."

"You know it seems a waste." Giry said as she stood and made her way to a dresser. Whilst she rummaged through it Danielle cocked her head and asked, "What's a waste?"

She glanced up, "You make a very pretty boy, but you make an exquisite girl."

Danielle flushed with colour, feeling a glow of pleasure.

Giry smiled before turning back to the drawer. She pulled a shirt and trousers from the lowest drawer and selected her longest linen bandage from the medicine cabinet she'd set beside the bed. She placed the items on the bed beside Danielle, "I'll be outside placating your friend. But before I do, what is your name child?"

Danielle paused as she made to grab the bandage. "It's Danielle." She said softly, keeping her eyes downcast as she picked up the linen.

"Exquisite." Was the only word she heard before there was the soft _snick_ of the door closing.

It didn't take her long to rebind her chest, slip on the dark brown trousers and somewhat loose light blue shirt. She tucked in the shirt and found her boots by the bed. On the dresser she found her gloves and cap neatly piled. With her fingerless gloves on and her cap at its jaunty angle she hunted down a black ribbon. In short order she had her hair swept back in a loose ponytail. Danielle sauntered out of the room to find a disgruntled Blake shouting at an unyielding Madame Giry.

"Daniel! Where in Gods name have you been all day!?" He exclaimed rushing to her side.

"Awww, diddums." She mocked him, smirking affectionately. He harrumphed.

"I took a bit of a fall the other day during my ahh… Forays. Madame Giry found me and saw to me, I was feeling a bit off when I came round so we thought it best I be left in peace." She threw together the hasty lie; it rolled off her tongue easily and apparently convincingly.

Blake rubbed the back of his skull; he heaved a sigh suddenly alerting Danielle.

"You know me," Blake began, looking uncharacteristically crestfallen. "I wouldn't normally worry so much. I know you can take care of yourself but you see, the Boss came to us with some news." Danielle stared at him, silently prompting him to continue. "Jacobson has bought your contract Daniel; apparently he got some note from the Opera Ghost commanding him to do so."

Once again a colourful stream of curses left Danielle's mouth, "Damnit I would have had that stupid thing paid off by next Christmas, now I have to start again here!" The Phantom was so going to get it.

"What about you lot?" She asked. "You've got another…" She counted swiftly. "Three months here?"

Blake nodded, "Unless the work finishes before then."

"Okay, I suppose that means I'll have to start easing control over to you." She thought a moment, forcing her anger down with the tenacity that had made her their leader. "But the boys already trust and respect you, and you pretty much run the show anyway while I'm off doing the trickier snooping."

Danielle looked to Blake, "You can do it, and I'm more than confident in you." Blake positively beamed at the praise.

"Thanks again Ma'm." Danielle said to Madame Giry, flashing that characteristic grin of hers.

She and Blake began to walk down the hallway together; Danielle's side felt a great deal better and only ached a bit. The two compatriots descended a flight of stairs and ambled along another hall, making a right they came upon the rest of the boys taking a break.

They all smiled rather sadly as eyes fell upon Danielle. "Cripes you all look like you've seen a ghost." She cried a hint of irritation in her tone all that betrayed her own chaotic stream of emotions.

"Listen guys, we've got about three months to shift leadership to Blake. Now you're already accustomed to his back seat leadership so the transition shouldn't be hard." Danielle was pacing as she said this, hands clasped behind her back.

"We all knew something like this would have to start anyway, what with me so close to paying off my old contract." She pointed out as Tony made to say something.

"Besides, I've got news." She wasn't sure what she could tell the boys so she aimed to tell them in riddles. "I've been shall we say contracted privately that should pay off my new contract rather nicely." Danielle's grin was smug, her anger solidifying into resolve.

"Privately?" They chorused. She smirked and shrugged, her smugness easing the last of her rage.

"Because of this ahhh, other party I'm going to be gone most evenings so don't fret my pets."

"Wait what?" Verence said his tone decidedly agitated.

Another hitch of the shoulders before Danielle waved unceremoniously and made to leave, "Oh and by the way, the one about the Phantom being a great swordsman. I can personally confirm that one." And with that little nugget she tripped out of the room and back into the hall.

Whistling, hands shoved in her pockets Danielle made the tedious journey up to 'her' room. Stepping through the door she closed it behind her with her foot, hands still lodged in her pockets. Strolling to the mirror and bending down she extricated a hand from her pocket and wrenched the dagger free. Danielle placed the dagger on the dresser and moved back to the bed; sitting on the mattress she rolled her shoulders.

Mentally working over her body she counted up her current points of annoyance. Her legs were sore simply from so much work, her shoulder still hurt from when she had nearly separated the socket, Danielle recalled the slash across her ribs sullenly, not to mention various nicks, a brief exploration with her fingers proved she still had a lump on her skull and she felt bone weary.

Danielle would have to go to the Phantom tonight, but she still had about 5 hours at least before it was late enough for that. Making up her mind she slipped off her boots, her cap, and her gloves. She sprawled across the bed, pulling up the cape to ward off the slight chill. She let her mind empty, for the moment at least stilling the myriad of thoughts clamouring for her attention. A soft sigh left her slightly parted lips and her body relaxed into the makeshift mattress. The soft warm darkness of dreamless sleep consumed Danielle and all memory ceased for one blissful stretch of time.


	9. Chapter 9, La Destreza

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Nine)}**

"Mphmph." Danielle grunted, swatting at the thing that insisted on shaking her sore shoulder rather harshly. She rolled over, away from the offending thing; only to roll off the side of the mattress and clatter to the ground rather painfully.

"Damnitall." She muttered while sitting up and rubbing her lower back.

She felt someone watching her, glanceing up over the mattress into the amused face of the Phantom. He had his eyebrow raised, his mouth quirked at the corner. Danielle scowled at him before gripping the mattress and pulling herself rather inelegantly to her feet.

"What are you doing…" She trailed off as she looked out the window. The night-time scene of Paris filled the frame, stars shone brilliantly in the sky and the street lamps had long been lit.

"Oh, right." She said sheepishly, grinning apologetically.

"Hmmm," Was all the acknowledgment he made before gesturing for Danielle to follow him. He turned swiftly, causing his cape to swirl with the movement and moved over to and through the open mirror. Danielle hastily grabbed up her boots, gloves, and cap. Jamming her feet in the boots she scurried after him, slipping her gloves and cap on as she moved. She found herself grateful she hadn't removed her bindings for her nap, having only intended 2 or 3 hours of sleep.

He was already far ahead of Danielle when she stepped into the passage. Thankfully light was no longer a problem; the torches in their brackets were lit and seemed fresh, and strong. Though the light flickered and the flames were slightly skewed thanks to the air current the place was bathed in light. Oddly enough the light was a golden orange colour, casting an ethereal feel over the passage.

Picking up the pace she caught up with Boss, his stride long and graceful. They walked in silence, Danielle's hands finding their place in her pockets. Soon they moved down the stairs, reminding Danielle just how much she was beginning to dislike the things. As they walked Danielle became acutely aware of a tune being hummed, it didn't take her long to realise it was the Phantom. It was a thrilling tune, almost sounding lustful and full of fire.

"What's that you're humming?" She asked, her voice echoing in the passage. He sent her a look over his shoulder.

He appeared to consider her for a moment, "It's of no consequence." He told her curtly, dismissing her as he turned his gaze forward again.

Frustration attacked Danielle in a flash, however noticing the tension radiating from his broad frame she quelled her anger; bidding her time until her questions might be answered. They were starting to build up.

In short order the dock was reached, and Danielle was treated to the sight of a boat moored at the stone port. She tilted her head quizzically as she regarded the floating vessel, distrustful of its flimsy appearance. The Phantom gestured Danielle in and after a moments hesitation she moved to the end. Surprisingly the vessel felt a great deal more than solid under her feet, the wooden sides supporting her felt reassuringly more substantial than they looked as she sat with her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. He followed her in and picking up a long pole he took up what appeared to be a rock solid stance and began to guide them through the water.

The boat ride was short and fairly soon they were moving past the two silent statues of Greek like gods holding up the ceiling. Just past the statues was the portcullis from the approach and as Danielle watched a faux wall hiding the arch slid out of place, thick drapes dripping heavily with their distended load parted, and the grating began to rise.

"I know how you do that from inside, but how did you pull that off from here while in a boat?" She asked, her inquisitive nature shining through.

"There's a mechanised pedal under the water that I trigger with the pole. It's exactly dividing the two statues; I know automatically where it is from long practice." By now they were sliding smoothly under the arch and into the colossal space of his lair. The candle lit room still managed to fascinate Danielle.

The boat made a muffled thump as it ran up next to the stone shore. The Phantom stepped out, rope in hand. He deftly knotted it through a metal ring before he removed his cape, tossing it for another of those random wooden pegs jutting out of the wall. Danielle watched as the peg caught the material, his aim was that good. Shaking her head she stood and stepped off the boat.

Boss had disappeared into one of the caverns, though he returned as Danielle stood there. In his hand he held the twin swords, one of which he now handed wordlessly to Danielle. She had barely spared a thought for the missing sword till now, recognising that he must have taken it from her unconscious body.

Still maintaining the silence he waved Danielle to follow him and strode off through the hidden wall/door she had left via last time she had been here. With the hilt gripped in her right hand she followed closely, loosing track of the amount of turns they made. Finally they made one last right turn and abruptly Danielle was confronted with a wide space. In this space there were thick ropes stretched across all over the place. They were attached to the wall and then reconnected with the floor at 45* angles, some were even attached to the ceiling. The Phantom strode into the centre of the room, or rather he _slithered_. He moved with such speed and agility, slipping easily between the ropes and winding through with barely a conscious thought. At one point Danielle watched him stretch a hand up, grip a taught rope and hop smoothly over it in one fluid movement barely breaking his vast stride.

He turned to Danielle then, facing her across the space. The room was brightly lit and Danielle took the time to admire his outfit. She was getting the distinct impression that he favoured the tight black trousers he wore, though she would be the first to admit they flattered him; though not out loud. As opposed to the casual look she had first seen him in he was dressed more elegantly this time around. He had a crisp white long sleeved shirt on underneath a form-fitting waistcoat of dark maroon embroidered with black thread. His cravat was perfectly tied and of the deepest black silk. Over the entire ensemble he wore a black overcoat; it stretched across his shoulders without hampering his movements. He had forsaken the knee-high boots for a more classic pair of black shoes, though he still wore a tight set of black leather gloves. Naturally he had on his mask; Danielle was still baffled as to the material it was made from.

"This is the first aspect of your training I will introduce you to." He began, causing Danielle's eyes to zoom to his.

"Lean your sword up against the wall; you will not need it for this exercise." Obediently Danielle left her sword by the wall, glowing dully in the light.

Hands clasped behind her back nervously she waited, watching him in the centre of the room. "Though you're obviously already skilled at moving amongst the flies and other such obstacles with great agility this course will help refine the skill to the point that moving in such a way is like breathing to you." He began, removing his overcoat as he spoke.

He draped it over a nearby rope and signalled Danielle to come to the centre with him. She eyed the ropes for a moment before moving in amongst them. She moved fluently, nimbly picking her way through them with simple but smooth movements. Danielle was fast and agile, but she grudgingly admitted that to reach the fluency she'd witnessed him performed she had a long way to go. "Another aspect of this course is it will tone and refine your body, bringing it to a peak of flexibility and stamina." As he spoke he stretched his arms out, flicking his fingers to indicate the entire room.

Danielle nodded as she slipped under another rope and abruptly jumped up and grabbing a rope swung her body through a gap between two more ropes. One more such manoeuvre and she'd joined him in the centre. "Look down," The Phantom instructed. Danielle looked to her feet and her eyes caught a thick black line. It spiralled out in steadily increasing circles in a clockwise direction from the centre.

"Initially what you will do here is just try to follow that line as fast and as fluently as you can," He explained, watching Danielle trace the line with her eyes. "I want you to keep at it until I either call a halt or you finish a circuit before this hour glass stops." He gestured at an hourglass sitting in a recess of the wall at the end of the spiral. "Every time you start a new spiral I will restart the timer." Danielle's eyes went wide; there was barely 5 minutes worth of sand in there! And the course was big!

"I'd like to see you try it once and then we will move on." The Phantom told her as he left the centre, heading for the hourglass. He deftly moved through the ropes, Danielle watched enviously as he moved with grace and elegance. Reaching the hourglass he looked to Danielle. Catching his eye she removed her cap and set it on the ground, she took up a ready stance and nodded at him. He started the hourglass and Danielle shot forward. Her hands grabbed and her feet moved, she swung dodged and slunk. She felt ropes whiz by her ear and on a few occasions she stumbled when her foot was snagged. Cursing mentally she moved relentlessly onward, following the black line doggedly.

Grabbing what appeared like the last rope she swung under it and came up on the other side panting, her brow slicked and her shirt collar drenched with sweat. Danielle looked to the hourglass, it was empty.

"You took exactly 6 ½ minutes longer than the hourglass permits, you need work." Danielle scowled at the Phantom, the bastard was smirking. "Enough here. Come." And once again he was off, moving swiftly. Retrieving her sword they left the rope chamber and turned left, and that was the last direction Danielle could remember. Boss led her through a confusion of turns and they came across another similarly large chamber, except this one was bereft of ropes.

The only point of notice in this room was a series of perfect circles in the centre. There were 4 circles in all, ranging from a small circle about the width of the Phantom's shoulders in diameter to quiet a large circle roughly 2 metres from the original central circle.

"This is a training circle. When you are inside this circle there is nothing outside of it, inside this circle there is only you and your sword." With Danielle at his side he moved to the centre. As they moved he shed his waistcoat and cravat, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. In one deft move he tossed them to the side of the cavern and turned to face Danielle unsheathing his sword. "This _La Destreza _is to my measurements, for the moment it shall suffice for you. As your skill progresses we will move outside the diagram, where you will no longer have its guidance. The aim is to teach you to work in any space, to appreciate your own space and to recognise to let your opponent come at you rather than come at them in a fit of anger or rage. You will need to recognise your opponents La Destreza and analyse its reach and opening." He moved a few steps away from her and brought his sword up, "Always move clockwise to your opponent, your left heel is the centre of your circle. Each circle represents your reach, where your opponents circle overlaps represents a moment of attack or defence. Keep yourself in semi-profile to me; begin your position with your feet close together at about shoulder width. This is your return position." Danielle tried to absorb this flood of information, slotting each piece of advise into the appropriate place. "I will instruct as we progress. Now begin, slowly."

Danielle brought her sword up hesitantly, though she had catalogue his directions she was unsure of her movements. He nodded at her and she mentally shrugged. She lunged at him haphazardly, bringing her sword down in a powerful swing from above. He blocked her easily, the nock sending vibrations up her arm as her sword arm flung out to the side. Suddenly Danielle instinctively went stock still as she felt his sword tip putting pressure against her ribs. Quickly she realised what had happened; as her arm had swung out from his effective parry she had left her side open to attach, his parry had not only been a defence but an attack. "You're simply trying to slice me, slower and aim." He reprimanded, "It might feel stronger to swing from above, but you loose control. Thrusting from the hip or shoulder will more often gain the advantage." He removed his sword tip and resumed position. "The Desvio, properly employed will allow you to deflect whilst allowing you to either impale your would be attacker or counter," Danielle didn't have time to admire the way the Spanish terms slid off his tongue as he suddenly made a sudden motion to his right and made a frighteningly accurate attack for her shoulder. Suddenly, as if his instruction had finally sunk in she noticed in that split second how his attack could be countered, the way she imagined his circle intercepted her own. Her adrenalin suddenly sparking Danielle brought her blade against his with a metallic clang, sending it down towards his thigh as she reversed the swing of hers towards the exposed side of his neck. She had a moment to see his satisfied smirk before he twisted out from under her attack and efficiently sliced her trouser leg from the downward trajectory of his sword. Daniel yelped as she felt the relieved tingling of her unscathed flesh, cold air touching the skin of her thigh. The Phantom straightened from his attach in the same fluid movements Danielle had thought she was growing used to, his expression looking pleased. "Better."

For another 30 minutes they worked like that. Danielle made sure to take it slow and think about her moves after that close call. After those 30 minutes the Phantom subtle sped up the sequence. Pretty soon Danielle was working at a respectable pace performing simple but effective combo's. However she was becoming increasingly exhausted, the back of her head feeling heavy and starting to remind her of cotton.

She faltered and stumbled to the ground, catching herself on her knees with her hands. Boss observed her panting on the ground, watched as she climbed shakily to her feet and brought the sword back up in front of her. Danielle's arms felt like jelly and her knees kept trying to buckle beneath her. The only outward sign of her struggle against her bodies fatigue was her teeth clamped firmly down on her lower lip, just that fraction short of drawing blood.

"Enough!" he said abruptly, sheathing his sword with a ring as the hilt hit the scabbard. "Tomorrow night we will have a session in both the rope course and in the training circle. But I will also be showing you two more aspects of your training, but for now go back to the room and sleep. You are not use to such a gruelling agenda, though you soon will be." He collected up his waistcoat and cravat, laying them over his arm. "Follow me back to the lair; from there you can take the boat back."


	10. Chapter 10, Food Pyramids & Screaming

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Ten)}**

Danielle hissed out through her teeth as she lowered her exposed body into the hot water. Wincing as her bruised, nicked, and battered flesh stung. She leant back carefully, swirling her hands absently in the water. Her eyes fluttered closed as the initial sting of the water faded and was replaced with the soothing touch of the blessedly hot water.

She sighed, a sound full of weariness. She slid a little lower in the tub, so that the water lapped at her delicate chin. Danielle shifted slightly, suppressing a groan as her muscles protested. Everything hurt, muscles she'd been unaware of hurt. Not for the first time in the last hour Danielle cursed the Phantom vehemently, secure in the knowledge that she'd jammed the mirror closed again.

Sighing with reluctance she slid down into the water to submerge her head. She came back up smoothing her hands over her head. _Damn, I left my cap down there,_ She remembered, groaning even louder. Grumbling she picked up a bar of soap and began to lather her flesh, the clean scent of it soothing her. Gingerly she washed her slashed side, careful not to tug the fragile skin and open it again. She spent a moment cleaning out her nails, making a face at the amount of grit under them in a very female action.

She splashed water over her body, cleansing it of the soap. Next she applied it to her hair, scrubbing viciously at the mass. She worked her fingers into it and combed it out, attacking any and all tangles with a vengeance. Satisfied with the now tangle free strawberry tresses she rinsed it of soap and gathering it up squeezed the excess water out.

Danielle rose, nude and starting to chill from the tub. Stepping out she snagged a towel and wrapped it tightly around her body. She went to the sink and peered in at the contents. She'd set her length of linen to soaking in soapy water to remove the sweat and grim it had collected. Now she lifted it out and rinsed it thoroughly. She hung it over a towel rack to dry and moved back to her discarded garments. She picked up her shirt and slipped it on over her head, the shirt when not tucked in went midway down her thighs and acted as an adequate night rail.

After sliding on the light linen drawers she often wore she gathered up the rest of the clothes. Hanging her used towel out Danielle moved back into the bedroom. She folded the trousers and placed them on the scared top of the dresser, leaving her gloves and hair ribbon on the folded item. Her boots she set at the end of the bed. A single kerosene lamp was on the tiny bedside table and provided just enough light to let Danielle move with confidence.

She slid onto the bed, slipping her bare legs under the thick cape. She curled up on the bed, balling her fists in the cape and cursing the Phantom mentally again as her body ached steadily. She certainly had not imagined such intense training when he had told her she was to be his apprentice. Hell she'd barely imagined anything; her mind had come up against a brick wall whenever she'd spared a moment.

*****

Danielle gritted her teeth as her shoulders screamed bloody murder at her. She resolutely ignored the pain and continued to haul on the rope that was affixed to a scenery batten. She was manoeuvring the thing into the fly tower, where she had just finished manoeuvring one other similar batten for storage.

Finally it was in place and Danielle swiftly knotted the rope to a peg, double checking the intricate knot. Satisfied she caught up a climbing rope and scrambled down it, taking advantage of the loops tied in it for such a purpose. She jumped the last metre down, regretting it when her body was jarred by the impact. She choked down another pained groan.

Her breakfast roiled in her stomach, protesting the flogging she was giving her body. Danielle forced down the bile in her throat and squaring her shoulders in a proud gesture stalked around the backdrop of the stage. She strolled across the wooden stage, feeling a little creped out by the way her footfalls echoed. The stage and seating had been built so that it amplified the sounds onstage, so the singers wouldn't have to strain themselves to be heard over the orchestra.

Currently down in the orchestra pit Monsieur Reyer was conferring with his firsts. She glimpsed the shine of brass from wind instruments, the rich red of string instruments, and Danielle knew there was a baby grand piano down there as well.

She was clear of the stage by now and she descended the stairs on the left of the stage from the seats. Gloved hands stuffed in her pockets she moseyed through a servant's door and traversed another hall.

She'd woken that morning rested but sore, extremely so. She'd dressed and come down for the breakfast that she'd enjoyed but was now regretting. That was when she'd been asked to help with the stage props, and since it was technically her job she'd been unable to refuse. That had taken up most of her morning, hauling the battens around in the flies and repairing some of the questionable rope bridges and walkways.

Her walk was slower than normal, but no less cocky. Despite the intense ache and the protestation of her belly Danielle was proud of herself. She'd earned those aches and pains; she'd sweated and worked hard. And she could admit to herself that she'd enjoyed sparing against the Phantom, not only because she'd been able to take furtive glances of his thigh muscles rippling under his moulded trousers but because he was poetry in motion. Danielle caught herself just in time to stop herself sighing dreamily, _Ye gads girl! Get a grip damnit!_

She shook her head, incensed with herself. Her head jerked up immediately when a dramatic shriek echoed down the hall. _That sound is almost like a staple here!_ she thought as she broke into a sprint and sped down the hallway. _Carbohydrates, vegetables, fruits, oils, dairy, protein and plenty of dramatic screaming. _Danielle snickered as she vaulted a prop, twisting her lips briefly at the now familiar flare of pain. She followed the flow of people to a rehearsal studio. Slipping through the crowd gathered at the doorway she managed to slither past them and into the room, taking advantage of her slight form.

Inside Madame Giry was trying her best to calm a hysterical ballerina who had an ugly but superficial gash on her leg. Danielle summed up the scene quickly, absorbing the cluster of girls in a corner milling about nervously and the shattered mirror looking very much like a jigsaw puzzle on the ground. She went to Madame Giry, whom was kneeling next to the girl seated on a plush chair. Looking at the ballerina Danielle felt like slapping some sense into her. Her brow furrowed in aggravation as the frantic girl continued to shriek, stuck on repeat or something. Instead of following her slap impulse she brought a hand to her lips and fitting two fingers to her mouth appropriately she blew one short sharp piercing note. The sound did two things; it shut the ballerina up and she simply sat in shock, and within a matter of seconds one of the twins was slithering through the crowd and into the room. Danielle recognised it was Will by the side the dimple was on when he flashed a grin.

She gestured him over and spoke under her breath when he drew near. "The girl is in shock. Do what you can to calm her down and level her out. Find out what the hell went down, I'll chat to Giry." She explained, signalling Giry as she moved away from Will. The twin immediately moved over to the girl, giving her a warm reassuring smile. Danielle smirked; Will would not only calm her down but have her dreaming of him for weeks to come.

Giry joined Danielle and together they drew away from everyone, trying to look inconspicuous in a corner. "Do you know what happened?" Danielle asked, dropping the boyish lilt since there really was no point with Giry. "When she first started that horrible screech she was saying something about 'Him! He's there! He's come for me!' That was of course before that mirror almost landed on her" Madame Giry explained, Danielle noticed the contempt that dripped from her tone.

"So you think she saw the Phantom?" Danielle asked to confirm. Madame Giry nodded glancing over at Will who already had the girl in his arms and was stroking her hair soothingly. Danielle rolled her eyes at the adoring look the girl was giving him. "Okay, I'll canvass the room see what I come up with." She offered, looking sidelong at the older woman. Considering the likelihood of wether The Phantom would still be here and if she could corner him. Her lips twitched at the suspicious expression Giry shot her before she had a chance to school her features into a more appropriate expression of curiosity.

Her gaze skipped to the nervous bunch of stick like females. "Go herd your sheep, they look lost." She sniggered. Giry sent her a scathing glare, but Danielle was astute enough to see the glimmer of hilarity in her eyes.

Alone again Danielle examined the room, looking for anywhere he could be hiding. Her neck prickled and intuition had her looking up, dead into a set of aqua eyes. The green seemed to be dominating the patterns today, distracting her for a millisecond. She scowled at his darkly handsome smirking face. He was looking down from the rafters near the wall, an open passage at his back. As she watched he pulled his cape closer around him and drew back into the shadows, all but disappearing. _He must have shown himself just then so I could see him,_ Danielle considered.

She looked around for anything she could discreetly climb to join him in the rafters. Spotting an oddly placed curtain - her intuition spiking again- Danielle moved to it and shuffled behind it casually. No one noticed. Behind the curtain now she saw a seemingly random deep crack running up the wall. The top of the crack ran right past a thick beam up in the supports. She made a disgusted sound in her throat, she would have to free climb. With her muscles protesting the entire time Danielle fit her two hands into the crack and braced herself. She began to climb, moving carefully and slowly. The crack was exactly the right width to allow an easy though tedious climb. The curtain blocked her journey up the wall from view and fairly soon she was stepping onto the beam, streams of complaints running through her mind. The beam led right to the shadow she had seen the man vanish into. Summoning up her formidable will power she moved swiftly and silently across the beam. As Danielle drew closer to the shadows she was able to make out his white mask standing dully out in the darkness.

She moved into the shadows beside him, recognising he was wearing pretty much the same thing as the night before. Except his waistcoat was a deep almost dark crimson, and his black silk cravat had a single deep red pin in the centre.

"You know you scarred that girl senseless, she was under the assumption you were after her." She muttered sullenly, watching Madame Giry briskly get her girls back in order.

"I was only trying to deliver a note to our mutual friend." He responded, his smooth voice causing Danielle to shiver. "Cold?" He asked not looking at her.

"Nah, just apprehensive." She lied swiftly, thankful she was good at it. He made a sound in his throat and left it at that.

"Why is it whenever you deliver a note it's usually accompanied by a victim becoming injured?" She asked with voice soft, Danielle came that close to forgetting to add the boyish texture.

"The artisan nearly found a passage of mine and the girl was trying to sing in the mirror" he grimaced.

"Pfft, doesn't mean you have to attempt bodily harm." She muttered giving him a dark look.

"I never attempt." He said simply and sinisterly. This time foreboding brought on the shivers.

"Did you ever consider simply scaring them? Like imprint it on their brain they're that traumatised?" Danielle shot at him.

Turning his head he gave her a glare made of blades, Danielle unconsciously drew away from him slightly. The muscle in his clean-shaven jaw jumped as he clenched it.

"What would you know." It was a rhetorical question Danielle knew, and the way he bit it out said she'd likely loose her head if she did answer. Even so as the Phantom turned, swirling his cape in the process she reached out a hand and snagged his coat sleeve.

He stopped when he felt the slight restriction and he turned his dark emotionless gaze to her. "I may not know much but I do know this. Scaring someone so bad all they can do is babble incoherently usually prompts rumours; believe me when I tell you I know rumours can be a great asset or a curse, depending." Her brow was furrowed in earnestness.


	11. Chapter 11, Chained Wings

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Eleven)}**

He watched her for a long moment. His two toned eyes looking molten jade with the light glinting off them. Danielle stared right back, her own whiskey eyes turning a shade of burnished gold in the shadows. His sleeve was still clenched in her fingers and flushing slightly she dropped it, thankful that it was too dark in the shadows to see the light stain on her cheeks.

"Explain." Danielle had to blink a moment to understand the import of his deep toned demand.

"Well if you injure someone or," She gulped nervously, "Killed someone the rumours generated would be pretty intense I'll admit." She offered with a quick appeasing motion of her hands. "But you see, death is something the human psyche is afraid of. Without cause or justification we turn from it, there are few that will look it in the eye. But further back, where you're nightmares lurk and your monsters live within the mind and soul of each of us; in this place more than anything, even death, they're afraid of madness." She struggled to put it into understandable terms. "And then the rumours would paint you in a more and more sinister and forbidding light, full of mystery and fear." Danielle watched his eyes closely as she spoke, hoping she was making any kind of sense to the man.

"People would jump to conclusions about what you'd done to this person to inspire such utter dread, the deeds you must have committed to reduce a rational functioning adult into someone that Blake would call 'Terrifyingly Crazy'. They'd really do all the work for you." Danielle recalled in a flash when she'd heard him use that term. He'd spent a week doing a private job for the boss separate from the group at the asylum; his descriptions when he'd come back had been brief. It had been the tone of his voice that had left Danielle with an extreme sense of dread.

The Phantom seemed to be considering what she had said, pursing his luscious lips in thought. "We'll discuss this further tonight." He informed her, drawing her from her study of him. He handed her a sealed parchment envelope, "I trust you can deliver this."

Danielle stepped back as he turned and disappeared into the open passage, marvelling slightly as a seamless 'door' slid into place and erased all traces of the passage. She looked down at the envelope; the grinning seal staring sightlessly back at her. She found herself grinning back at it; that had gone better than she'd expected.

The trip back across the beam and down behind the curtain seemed easier. Though Danielle's muscles did still send her very pointed messages of pain as she climbed down, having set the envelope between her teeth. She shuffled out from behind the curtain, dusting herself down and taking the note from her teeth's grip as she did. She brought her head up and caught Giry's eye, whom had been watching her with an elegantly raised eyebrow. Danielle flashed a bright smile and strolled nonchalantly towards her, envelop clutched in her fingers.

"That is enough today girls; I think we could all do with a break." Madame Giry told her flock, shooing them with her hands. Once she'd seen the girls moving off in the correct direction she turned to Danielle, her gaze flickering down to the envelope.

"You've got mail." Danielle told her with a sassy grin and offered the note. Madame Giry plucked it from her grip with a grim look, her lips thin.

She read the note swiftly; Danielle saw her lips move slightly as she silently repeated some sentence to herself.

When she met her eyes with Danielle's again there was a curious mix of excitement and anxiety swirling chaotically within them. Danielle cocked her head to the side, "Well?"

"Come. Monsieur Jacobson must see this!" Giry told Danielle quietly. The crowd had dispersed from the door when it had become clear - to them at least – that nothing of particular interest had happened.

Danielle followed Madame Giry from the room and through the various twists and turns, listening to the rapid patter the woman's heels made. Their surroundings became vaguely familiar to Danielle as she was led by Giry to the managers office. They stopped at the familiar door and Madame Giry rapped smartly on the wood three times. They were told to come in and once inside they observed Henry Jacobson enjoying a rather rich lunch.

Danielle's own stomach was still on the worse side of upset and the sight of the rich banquet caused her stomach muscles to tighten. "Monsieur we received another note from the Opera Ghost." Madame Giry plunged right in, causing Henry to come very close to choking on the bagel he'd bitten into.

"What!" He spluttered, sending out a broad spray of crumbs. Danielle's face must have displayed her disgust because Madame Giry nudged her arm ever so slightly. Danielle cleared her face of all expression, inwardly grimacing as Henry sputtered some more.

"When! How! Where! And for God Sake what does it say!" He said sounding muffled as he hastily wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Just a few moments ago in the rehearsal studio I was in. One of the girls was injured when a mirror crashed. She will be fine, just a scratch." And to answer the other part of his question she handed over the note.

Predictable as he was Henry began to read the note out loud.

_Monsieur Jacobson,_

_It affords me great pleasure to see the repairs are going well and on schedule. If all goes to plan they should be sufficiently completed to host a Masquerade ball in two months time with an accompanying Opera. _

_For the first Opera of the grand opening I believe it only fitting to perform one of the first Opera's recognised as such. __L'Orfeo._

_I sincerely do not wish to listen to Carlotta butcher the role of Euridice. As such I request you start auditions for a new leading lady. _

_Naturally I require my Box be left unoccupied and I thank you for the payment of my salary._

_I remain, sir, your obedient servant, O.G._

"A Masquerade!" Henry exclaimed at the conclusion of his narrative. "Well insane, mad, or genius that's a brilliant suggestion!"

Danielle rolled her eyes, _well dah._

"Tell me of this 'L'Orfeo' Madame Giry." He asked, picking up a teacup and taking a judicious sip.

"It is a wonderful piece of art filled with passion, love, tragedy and the true power of music." Danielle found herself fascinated by the curious glazed over dreamy look the usually stern and proper woman had in her eyes.

"Indeed? It sounds marvellous, just marvellous!" He set his teacup down with a clatter. "Carlotta will not be happy with being shunned into the background." Madame Giry said, returning to her grave mystique.

"Carlotta will not have much choice I'm afraid." He barked with laughter. "No where else will take the old bird. So she either likes it or finds herself without employment."

Danielle was impressed; this was the first glimpse she'd gotten of his backbone under that podgy exterior.

She found herself grinning at the cherub of a gentleman. He blinked at her for a few moments, obviously not expecting it. "Why hello lad, I take it you were there when the note was found again."

"Yes sir." She replied, underlining the boyish charm of her voice.

"You're the one I bought the contract of aren't you?" He said, more for his benefit than Danielle's.

Her face clouded, "Yes sir."

"Well if that will be all sir I will spread the good news." Madame Giry broke in and began to hustle Danielle out the door. They stepped out into the hall, Danielle still glowering. The door closed with a snap and again the older woman ushered her along. "Bastard," Danielle muttered as they walked.

"Jacobson is an uncouth man; he does not read people very well." Madame Giry tried to salve her anger.

Danielle frowned, confused. _Oh right! She thinks I'm talking about the cherubic moron._ When in reality she'd been thinking of The Phantom in all his irritating glory.

She heaved a sigh, calming her seething anger. "I suppose. It's just I was so close to paying off my contract and being a free agent. And then that pompous ass decides that, "hey I need this one!" and buys me out. So now I'm going have to work off my debt all over again!" She raged, throwing her hands up and coming to an abrupt halt in the corridor.

Madame Giry gave her a worried look, "He was only doing as the phantom instructed. We can not afford any more accidents after the fire."

"That's who I was talking about!" Danielle exclaimed, to bitter to watch her tongue as closely as usual. She whirled away from Giry and stormed off, needing to find somewhere to blow off her steam.

That place ended up being the roof, amongst the silent watchful statues. Danielle stood at the very edge of the landing, gazing out over the world of roofs with her hands stuffed characteristically in her pockets. She'd spent a good hour just pacing back and forth, calling a certain someone all manner of names.

Freedom was something Danielle had worked for ever since she was old enough to realise she was trapped. _In more ways than one_, she reminded herself sullenly. Not only did she 'belong' to the contract holder until her initial cost and living expenses were paid off, but as long as she had to keep up this charade she was trapped.

Many years ago, on the day she had been handed over to the tradesman dressed as a boy she had seen a caged sparrow. The little brown thing had been beating ineffectually at its prison. She had remembered feeling sorry for the miniature bird and a few years later she had felt a kind of connection with the animal. It had the wings and the power to fly, but it was chained down by others who would wish it.

Danielle kicked at nothing in particular, just going through the motions. Finally she heaved a final breath and let go of the last of her anger. She still resented the Phantom she called boss for only providing more chains to strap her wings down, but she saw no point to clinging to her anger. It would be wiser to calm down and work through or around her obstacles with a level and sharp mind.

She wandered aimlessly over to a rearing Pegasus, tucking herself neatly down in between its giant fetlocks. She rested her head against the cool stone and blanked her mind as she watched the afternoon stretch out into evening, and the evening stretch into night. As the last colours faded from the sky and the first star fought against the darkness to cast her brilliance down upon earth, Danielle rose to her feet.

She had a date with a Spectre.


	12. Chapter 12, , S'like Riding a Bike

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Twelve)}**

_Stupid pedal, stupid pole, stupid lair!_ Danielle thought vehemently as she randomly thrust the pole at a spot between the two giant Greek like statues. She couldn't find the pedal that would open the portcullis, currently hidden by the fake wall. The boat rocked dangerously with the force of her thrusts and Danielle froze. She held perfectly still until the rocking had ceased before she made another jab at the water. Finally she felt it hit something other than the jarring sensation of the concrete floor of the underground lake, her eyes snapped up just in time to catch the wall slide away and the curtains part. As the inner grate began to rise Danielle guided the boat forward, casting a glare at the portcullis as she skated beneath it.

Mist swirled around the boat on the surface of the water, twisting and twirling with the water and air currents. A soothing melody filled the lair, a lilting tune that would have a person humming it days later. She'd been so distracted by the lovely sound that she was startled as the boat bumped up against the shore. Gaining her wits she jumped out - not without a pained wince – and moored the sturdy wooden vessel. She straightened and stretched, placing her hands on her lower back and arching herself as far back as she could.

The tune continued and Danielle wandered towards the stairs that led up to the boss' organ. Sure enough at the top of them The Phantom played his instrument, fingers seeming to move on in the same instant they touched the ivory keys. She watched for a moment before she spoke softly, feeling a sense of deep sadness and great loss in the atmosphere. "What's that?"

He turned his head and regarded her, even as he continued to play. "This? I suppose you could call this the beginning of my demise." The statement was so macabre it had Danielle taking a step towards him, sympathy in her eyes. Not pity, sympathy. For a moment the image of that sparrow flashed before her eyes, and looking at this masked menace she saw the same trapped bird she felt within herself.

As the song progressed under his skilled fingers Danielle grew graver. She recognised the tune now. It was the music to the song 'think of me', which according to the rumours she'd heard was the song Christine Daaé débuted with. That had apparently been the same night she'd reunited with her childhood sweetheart, her current husband.

He was bound like she. Bound by his memories, bound by whatever he hid behind that mask. _And,_ Danielle admitted, _by his anger._

As the song faded into nothing, withdrawing its magic from the cavern Danielle sought to fill the silence. "So a Masquerade huh?" it sounded lame even to her ears.

A ghost of a smile flittered fleetingly across his sculpted lips, "Yes, I thought it a festive way to celebrate the Opera's new start." He rose from his seat in one lithe movement, those trousers of his doing wonders for his lower half. Absently Danielle licked her lips as she watched; mortified with herself she swiftly turned from him and marched down the steps.

She waited at the bottom, arms crossed over her flattened chest. As expected he didn't take long joining her, and like last time he wordlessly handed her the twin sword. She'd left it down here on his advice. Walking around with a Phantom insignia sword strapped to her hip was not exactly inconspicuous.

He swept past her, his long strides covering the ground effortlessly. She looked after him, simply watching him move to the hidden doorway. He paused in the doorway and looked back at her, his eyebrow raised in question.

She shook her head and hurriedly joined him in the doorway. He nodded at her and led her once again to the rope course. Danielle spotted her cap the moment they stepped through the door and giving a holler she bounded through the ropes to it and swiped it up. She tucked it into her pocket with a fond smile, patting the bulge once it was in. The Phantom's soft chuckle had her looking up into his patterned green and blue gaze. She stuck her tongue out at him in what she suspected looked like a very childish gesture. But frankly Danielle didn't care much and indulged in the freedom to do so.

Unaware that he was resisting the urge to smile at her Danielle watched him move to the hourglass. He looked to her and his pointed look had her getting ready to move. The moment the sand began to trickle she was moving. Muscle screamed and joints groaned. Danielle resolutely grit her teeth and ignored her pains.

Three times she attempted the spiral. The first time she was 7 minutes over, the second she was 10 minutes over, and by the third spiral she was so exhausted and sore she took a grand total of 15 minutes over the limit. It was then that the Boss called a halt to her increasingly faltering progress.

As she dragged her body over to him she glowered at him and dared him with the look in her eyes to criticize her. "I didn't expect anything else." He said with a shrug of his shoulders inside his form-fitting jacket. Moulding to his torso with the quality only the best materials could do, so that he looked elegant and deadly strong at the same time. "You're body is sore, and although you hide it well I can tell it's what's affecting your agility." He'd collected her sword from the wall where she'd left it and handed it to her. "With time, as your body becomes accustomed the pain will fade and your speed will pick up."

Grumbling about how it was always about time she followed him to the training circles. This time instead of sparing with her he demonstrated some slightly more difficult combos. He then had her perform them until he was happy with her form, then he had her repeat. For one such combo she was unable to get her feet right.

Eventually the Phantom got frustrated trying to correct her with words and instead he slid his hands down her thighs, adjusting the way she was holding her weight. Sliding further down he nudged the backs of her knees so she was slightly more bent and then his hands were adjusting her feet. All the while Danielle was fighting not to shiver at the feel of his hands on her thighs and legs, causing the skin to burn wherever his warm hands caused friction. She gulped with relief as he stepped back, finally satisfied with her stance. In what was becoming a pattern she thanked her propensity to hide what she was feeling, a survival instinct she had developed to the point that she no longer needed to think about it.

Terrified of having him put his hands on her again she worked hard at keeping the stance. Secretly disappointed that he didn't do just that but relieved at the same time.

Danielle lost track of the time they spent on the sword combos. But she was aware of the sensation of her muscles burning from the workout, and sweat slid down the small of her back ticklishly. Her hair was dishevelled and as the Boss called out for her to stop she lay the sword down momentarily and retied her hair. She grimaced as she felt the many tangles in the soft hair, the strawberry hue darkened near the skin from her perspiration.

"I told you the other night that I would have two more things for you tonight." He explained as he joined her within the circle. Danielle nodded as she bent to retrieve the sword. He waited for her to straighten and stretch a bit in what Danielle thought was rather uncharacteristic patience. Signalling that she was ready she followed his fluttering cape through the tunnels once more. The further they went the wider the passages seemed to be getting, they were more airy and could have allowed 10 men to march side by side easily. Not to mention the ceiling was high; _just about as high as the flies,_ Danielle deliberated.

Eventually the Phantom led her into another new chamber. Danielle blinked, and gaped, and did an impression of a goldfish.

"That's a horse!" she finally got out. They were standing in what Danielle could not mistake for anything but a stable. There were two large box stalls, and she could smell the fresh sweet smell of straw. In one of these stalls a huge black horse snorted at her over his stall door. He uttered the thunderous call of a challenging stallion and a loud thump echoed through the passages as a lightly feathered hoof came in contact with the sturdy wood of his door.

"Easy Achaius{ah KEE us}." The Phantom murmured in the warmest voice Danielle had yet heard him use. He moved past her to the stallion's head and captured the beasts muzzle in his hand. Achaius' nostrils flared for an instant and then he instantly calmed, pressing his muzzle more firmly into the man's hand and whickering softly.

It was then that Danielle observed the opaque quality of the horse's eyes. She furrowed her eyebrows and looked to the boss in question. "He is blind. Cursed since birth to lead the life of an outcast." He stroked the thickly corded neck of Achaius as he spoke. "But here in the darkness he has no use for sight. Those tunnels he can move through he knows better than I, or perhaps even more so than the currents that move through them." Murmuring soothing words to the stud he moved away from him and gesturing Danielle he moved to the other stall. Danielle joined him as he peered into the stall and her breath hitched as she glimpsed the contents.

Inside was a similarly pitch black horse. But she was slight and much smaller than her stall buddy, and so obviously female. "Her name is Aalish{A lis}" He said as he opened the stall door and just about pushed Danielle in. "About a year ago she was destined to be turned into glue." Danielle held out her hand to the petite but beautiful mare. "I'm still not sure why I rescued her, but now she is yours." Danielle smiled as Aalish placed her muzzle trustingly into her hand. "You two seem suited. She may seem slight but she is nimble and one of the most intelligent horses I have encountered. Not to mention she has a fiery spirit hidden under that gentle exterior." He commented wryly, Danielle suspected some memory prompted it.

"If you don't know how to ride I will teach you, if you do I will refine it."

"I know how, though I can't manage more than a trot I'm afraid." Danielle said as she moved to Aalish' side and stroked her fingers through her thick black mane. The Phantom nodded, "Very well. Here, tack her up; we'll take them out." Danielle hastily caught the halter he sent flailing through the air.

After 10 minutes of fumbling and cursing Danielle had managed to fit Aalish' tack correctly. A smart black English saddle rested on the little mares back, cinched tight around her girth. She wore a gleaming black bridle with silver inlay, a simple snaffle bit all the control she needed. The Phantom had taken a mere 5 minutes to saddle-up his enormous Achaius, whom currently stood with the man outside the stable pawing the ground impatiently.

Leading Aalish she joined them, admiring how deftly The Phantom handled the stallion despite the presence of a mare. He threw his reins over Achaius huge Friesian reminiscent head and gathering them up he mounted in one smooth and refined move. Ignoring the hulking bulk of the stud Danielle mirrored his moves and mounted Aalish who danced excitedly under her the moment she was seated. Automatically her foot found the right stirrup and she nodded to signal she was ready.

Together they moved into a smooth walk. Danielle had been telling something of a lie when she'd told him she could only trot. In fact she was a great rider, or at least she had been before she'd been sold off. She'd had the advantage of riding lessons up until just before her 10th birthday. But that had been over 8 years ago and Danielle wasn't altogether sure of her skill anymore.

Tentatively she asked Aalish for the extension and to her delight the mare complied. She was a smooth ride, with a simmering Danielle could feel just below the surface. The Phantom moved into a trot and Danielle asked with a slight nudge and shift in weight for the gait. Her trot was a bit bouncy, a characteristic she knew of smaller horses but it was full of impulsion and energy. Gathering her courage Danielle urged her into a canter, her mind thrilling as she surged smoothly into the three beat gait. Danielle grinned at the surprised face of The Phantom as she flashed by. The answering thundering three beat alerted her he was following.

Danielle couldn't resist the temptation any more and she leaned forward and closed her legs around her mounts sides. The walls blurred as they moved as one into the four beat of the gallop, wind stirred by their speed whipping Aalish' black mane into her face. The Phantom hadn't been lying when he said she was agile. She was fast. Really fast. And as they whipped around corners Danielle felt herself come that much closer to the ground she spun so effortlessly.

She laughed as her ears registered their pursuers and the two bounded ahead, purposely keeping just ahead of the heavier stallion and rider.

Eventually Danielle grew tired of their game of cat and mouse and she didn't wish to overtire the little mare. So not without a pang of reluctance she slowed to a gentle walk, smirking when Achaius came thundering around the corner after them. The Phantom reined him in, both of them sliding a little with the sudden halt.

"I thought you said you couldn't ride." He said darkly, the calm deadly tone scaring her more than if he'd been roaring at her.

"I didn't think I could anymore." She replied meekly, "but you know what they say, s'like riding a bike." She smiled cheekily. He was scowling at her but she could see the amusement swirling in the patterned depths of his cerulean eyes.


	13. Chapter 13, Quoth The Raven

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Thirteen)}**

"Bah-humbug." Danielle muttered as she finally left Aalish' stall, shooting the bolt home behind her. They hadn't ridden much longer after Danielle's little chasing stunt. Unfortunately the endorphin high she'd gained from the thrill of riding could no longer numb the pain, and it grated against her senses like a bad high-note. As a result she'd pretty much shuffled through the process of untacking and rubbing down the black mare. That same mare was now munching contentedly on a mixture of grains; fresh water supplied and bedding fresh.

The Phantom was just coming out of Achaius' stall. Danielle sullenly noticed he looked as fresh and elegant as ever despite having just tended a large quadruped.

You said two things? Far as I can tell this has only been one." Danielle muttered as she rubbed the back of her neck, referring to his earlier comment before he'd uncovered the hidden stable.

"Yes, but this is more an exercise of the mind." He explained as he set off once again. Their footsteps echoed along the passage and absently Danielle noticed a slight current streaming over her shoulder.

"Of the mind, so like I can actually sit down?" She asked dubiously.

He was frowning faintly when he glanced back at her. "Yes you will be sitting most of the time. But I can almost guarantee you'll prefer the physical aspects of your training by the end of the week."

Danielle snorted, "Not bloody likely."

"This exercise will focus on broadening your mind; to refine your manners and etiquette." They made one more right turn and were strolling back through the hidden doorway into his lair.

"It will teach you how to dance, handwriting, I will set certain books and works for you to read if you can. If you can't read I will teach you that as well. You have the fingers for a piano so I will begin to teach you to play. We will dabble in numbers and discuss anything you may have questions about from your studies." As he talked he walked to the area dedicated to his models and papers. He shuffled through the papers, unearthing a book here and there. She watched as he read the spine with a careless movement and subsequent fluid flick of his wrist as he discarded it. He eventually found two books and set them on the table in front of where she'd settled to watch. "One of these are the works of Edgar Allan Poe, the other is some of Charles Dickens most best-known works." He walked around the table to what Danielle had thought was just another shelf or something. It was draped in red silk, objects and paper littered its flat surfaces. "If you can't read those will be the books you'll work from."

Efficiently he cleared the red draped piece of furniture and then with a dramatic flourish he ripped the fabric from it. Danielle's eyes went wide. It was an upright piano, made of a rich deep mahogany. There was an Italian insignia imprinted in the side.

"I will teach you to play on this, when you've reached a certain competence we may or may not move you to the organ." He pivoted and moved to a cluttered table.

More shuffling ensued and he eventually pulled forth sheet music. He placed this with the books and opened a drawer. From the drawer he extracted a small flask of ink and a dip pen set. There were three kinds of nibs Danielle could see in the penholder. She'd seen enough of these to know what they were. One was for normal copperplate writing, another for mapping, and the last for music staves. He also brought out a blotter pad. The writing implements joined the books and sheet music. Danielle looked upon them with a growing sense of anxiety.

"Can you read?"

She nodded.

"Write?"

Another nod.

"Numbers?"

"Quiet well." She answered, a little smug.

He cocked his head, "Yes?"

"Mostly due to personal reasons; rather than practical reasons. I liked to be able to keep track of how much I'd paid off my contract and the amount still to go. My desire resulted in learning my arithmetic to a proficient level." _Desire_, Danielle mused as she felt a jolt in her gut looking at him. _What a fickle word,_ She scoffed at herself.

He inclined his head vaguely, "What about music?"

She shook her head.

"Dance?"

Danielle gnawed her lip, unsure how to answer. She knew how to dance; as a female partner. "Yes." She finally answered.

The Phantom frowned. "How is that?"

"I haven't been holed up for the last 18 years. The boys and I know how to dance quiet respectfully." She shrugged, perhaps overdoing the nonchalance just a tad.

"We've seen the upper class dancing at our various jobs. The boys enjoy impressing the young woman with the fancy steps." She explained.

"And you don't?" he asked, his eyebrow climbing a few cm.

_Oh Damn,_ She cast around for a good excuse. "The girls are never much interested in a scrawny and frankly feminine boy." She added just the right bitter edge to her tone, pleased with the result.

"I've noticed that you always distance yourself from them. It's always 'the boys and I.' Never 'us boys.'" He remarked narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. Danielle gaped at him; he had picked up on something no one ever had before. "I - I suppose it's because they've never exactly accepted me so completely. For some unknown reason they've put me on a pedestal, made me the pack leader. They respect and admire me, given me their loyalty and their friendship. But they've never completely accepted me." She hesitated with the explanation at first, adding to herself that they could never really accept her because they had no clue what she truly was.

He regarded her coolly, his mysterious eyes shifting to a dark toned green/blue. She swallowed and lifting her chin met his stare with her own, hardening her amber eyes against his probing look.

He broke the eye contact first, looking down at the books.. He picked up the red book, the golden writing along the spine donating it as Poe's work. He held the book out to Danielle, whom accepted it with nary an objection. "Read to me." He ordered curtly, turning his back to her and going to a seat at a writing desk.

With a singular wrinkle between her brows Danielle found a seat herself and opened the book to the first page.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,  
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,  
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,  
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.  
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -  
Only this, and nothing more.'" Danielle read, becoming entrenched in the picture the poem enticed.

And so the lessons progressed…

**Creepy forward jump in time thingy, 1 month and 2 weeks**

Eyes the colour of good aged whiskey jumped to the image of an hourglass just as the last grains trickled through the neck. Danielle gaped at it, snapping her jaw shut as a by now familiar chuckle echoed through the chamber. It still managed to send warmth flooding through her body, down to her fingertips.

Danielle looked at the Phantom for a moment and then burst into a victory dance. "I finally beat the bastard!" She exclaimed, jumping about. Danielle had more than one reason to be so ecstatic. Weeks ago she had beaten the course, coming in just under the limit. And then the boss had pulled something out of his sleeve. He'd pulled a lever and the course had changed! The angles and spaces had become tighter and smaller, making everything more chaotic and difficult. And then a further two weeks on he'd done it again when she'd finally beaten it. It had been to the point where she swore fluently as she squeezed through the smallest spaces in a nano-second.

At one point she'd blown up at him; claiming that no one could pull off the thing in less than five minutes. He of course had looked at her decorously and then proceeded to discard his jacket and complete the course in less than 4 minutes! She'd simply glared at him, he that was not even puffing from the burst of agility and speed.

Other areas of her training had been progressing. She'd gone up two levels in the La Destreza, to the point that she no longer needed to stand on the diagram. At one point to break the monotonous routine the Phantom and Danielle had sparred thigh deep in the lake. She'd been very distracted then, since he'd shed his shirt. The image was still printed on her retinae.

They rode daily – or rather nightly. Achaius had become use to her presence and had begun to accept her touch on the rare occasion she petted the black brute. Aalish and Danielle had become so in tune they worked as one unit, often leading Achaius on a merry dance.

After all the physical aspects were dealt with they moved onto the mental. Danielle's skill at the piano had increased to the point she could play respectably as long as the tune was simple. Her handwriting had advanced from the untidy scrawl she once used to a slightly unsteady but elegant cursive. She'd now read a broad range of works and had often sat and discussed the implications of some of these with the Phantom. That first poem she'd read out loud had lead to a discussion about the narrator's belief that the bird was a messenger. Danielle had argued that he thought it a cursed being having called it a 'thing of evil' but that although he believed this he also revered the bird as a prophet of the gods when he tells it to return to 'Plutonian shore.'

The Phantom had countered saying that the man's own memories had brought forth his anger and his fear of the bird. He'd believed that the man blamed himself for the death of his Lenore and the knowledge that she may have been denied access to heaven without truly knowing tore him apart.

All of this had resulted in two definable things. The first and most notable to Danielle was her physical self. Though by no means a weakling before her apprenticeship, she'd now gained lean smooth muscles. This also worried her, since the toned muscles had only emphasized her womanly curves aside from the added strength. She guessed the Phantom was curious why she still looked as slight and wiry as ever, more so even. Danielle had begun to wear her shirts and trousers looser, desperately trying to hide her supple body. She'd gained an elegant confident gait, and if Danielle didn't watch herself very closely she moved with an altogether sensual feminine grace.

On the other scale, and just as worrying was the camaraderie that had struck up between the two. At first it had gone unnoticed. But then both factors of the equation had begun to notice little changes in their attitudes towards the other.

The biggest one of the changes had become obvious one day during sword practice. Acting purely on impulse and a sense of playfulness Danielle had managed to dodge behind the Phantom and smack him across the buttocks with the flat of her blade. Everything had gone still, Danielle standing completely mortified with herself rooted in place. He'd turned slowly to her, his eyes smouldering. And then in a split second, like a dream remembered, an altogether treacherous grin had stretched across his perfectly moulded lips and he'd slipped behind her and returned the slap with the flat of his blade across her backside! Danielle had shrieked and then come after him, their swordfight devolving rapidly into more of a play fight than the serious sparring they had been doing.

And what set Danielle's heart to sinking was one small fact. The more she got to know him the more she liked him. Her simple physical admiration of him had turned into a fervent crush. She enjoyed their stimulating discussions. Through his handling of his horse she'd seen the gentleness within him and the undying patience. She'd seen the grief and sadness when he played and the rage trapped within his soul. Danielle saw it all and accepted it all. She hadn't seen what he hid so intensely behind his mask but she saw his soul's scars.


	14. Chapter 14, Dresses and Apples

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Fourteen)}**

Danielle stretched her arms out, reaching high into the air. It was the first morning of the last week before the masquerade ball and an excited buzz had seeped its way into the atmosphere. All over the Opera house, the girls excitedly chatted about the clothes and the eligible men that would be attending. The young men discussed the girls and the entertainment.

Danielle had just stood from her seat at the table, the one she and the boys occupied. Blake had slowly been taking over control of the group, though they still followed Danielle's orders on the few occasions she had asked them too within the last few weeks. Chairs scraped as they rose as one unit, following her example. "So boys, will you be decking yourselves out for the festivities?" She asked, shoving her hands in her pockets and strolling with them towards the exit.

"Nah the only ones invited to the ball are the singers, dancers and those paying for the opera." Blake explained. "We'll all be at the shindig the other employees are having."

Danielle made a sound in her throat, not much interested. "What will you be up to?" Tony asked, all the boys had noticed her absence and her often-distracted demeanour when she joined them. They'd all guessed it had something to do with this 'private' contractor but any information they'd attempted to get from her had been in vain.

"Huh? Oh I'll probably be snooping around while everyone is otherwise occupied." She said with a negligent shrug. They didn't seem to be buying it but none-the-less they held their tongue.

"Daniel!" all heads turned as Madame Giry worked her way over to them in the corridor they'd been trekking.

"Yes ma'm?" She answered turning her body to face her.

"I've got something I will need your help with." She said once she'd reached Danielle's group. Danielle's brow rose a few notches but she nodded and waved goodbye to the boys. They all gave her half-assed waves in return, amusement written plainly across their faces.

Madame Giry led her, funny enough, to her bedchamber. She ushered Danielle in and closed the door bolting it once it was snug in its frame. She turned to Danielle with a sage gaze, scrutinizing her like a piece of meat. "Do you mind?" Danielle said with a bland tone giving her a cutting look.

Ignoring her tone Madame Giry spoke, "Do you want to go to the Masquerade?"

"What?" Danielle's face clouded with perplexity.

"Do you want to go to the Masquerade?" She asked again.

"Well sure I suppose but they won't let a scrappy lad like me…" She didn't finish as Madame Giry fairly knocked her down with her interruption. "I never said anything about going as a lad."

Danielle stared at her incredulously, her mouth hanging open. Madame Giry smiled primly, resembling the cat with the cream in reach. "W-what?" Danielle stammered eventually. Much as she tried, she couldn't tamp down the sudden surge of exhilaration.

"And you'll be going as a lady too, not some servant girl." Madame Giry pronounced briskly.

Another swoop of excitement descended on Danielle, just about causing her to loose her breath. She'd been denied the freedom to be at all feminine for most of her life, the sudden prospect of being able to dress up and dance at a ball caught her in a vice like grip of need. However, eight years of firmly denying the indulgence was working against her – or for her depending on how you looked at it.

"It's too risky, and besides I don't have anything like that to wear or the resources to get my hands on anything." Danielle argued, though she felt like she was fighting a loosing battle.

"Not an issue." Madame Giry returned. She moved to her closet and opened the door with a look of reverence. From the recesses, she withdrew a gown of shimmering golden silk. It was obvious there were masses of material incorporated in the wonderful garment and yet it seemed to convey the very essence of weightlessness. The neckline was low coming to just above the bust it would afford a brief tempting flash of cleavage. The sleeves were off the shoulder, snug until they reached the midpoint of her upper arm where they split into multiple ribbons of differing sizes fluttering down around the arms. The bodice was tight down to the hips where the skirt fell in soft luscious folds. The exact colour of the silk was almost the exact shade of Danielle's eyes, altering slightly every time the material shifted in the light.

Danielle's intact of air was quiet audible and she gazed upon the gown with wonder shimmering in her eyes.

"I thought as much." Giry commented as she returned the dress to the cupboard. "Come to me on masquerade night and we will turn you into the most stunning woman to grace the ball." The door clicked softly as she pressed it closed.

"Seems way too Cinderella to me." Danielle scoffed once the dress was out of sight.

Madame Giry gave her a knowing half smile. "You may say such things."

Danielle hissed her breath out through her teeth and groaned. "Fine I want to go, I want the dress, I want for once in my god damn life to feel like a woman!" She snapped exasperated with the significant half smile still on Giry's lips. Danielle ground her teeth when all Madame Giry did was incline her head, lashes swept down demurely.

"I'm not making any promises mind." Danielle said slowly, "But if I can go, I will."

"That is good enough for me." Giry unbolted the door and opening it waved Danielle back into the empty hallway.

Danielle danced skilfully out of reach of the blade as it slashed precisely where her abdomen had been moments before. She pivoted and delivered a series of jabs intended to distract and then slash her opponent. The Phantom anticipated her move though and ignoring her feint knocked her blade away from its path towards his throat. He followed the block with a graceful attack up under her sword arm. Danielle resorted to her agility and twisted away from the thin steel blade, narrowly avoiding earning another scar on her ribcage. She leaned down and slashed at his legs, as he jumped the sword Danielle tucked her shoulder and rolled. She sprung up directly in front of him and their swords clashed loudly. Grinning at him over their locked swords and she jumped nimbly back. The Phantom feigned a lunge to her right; instinctively she flinched towards that side. It distracted her just enough so that in the next instant she found herself frozen with the tip of his rapier millimetres from her exposed neck. She gulped, not liking the sensation at all. Danielle watched his face as his eyes flickered down to her neck, watching her trachea move as she swallowed. The half of his face she could scrutinize turned deadly serious, his eyes turning a cold aqua marble.

He retracted his blade, "Enough!" His sword rang out as he slammed it home in its scabbard. "I will not be joining you riding. Take Aalish but do not do anything foolish." Danielle was bewildered by his harsh tone. Over the past weeks, she had become use to the gentler tone he'd taken to addressing her with. He sneered at her disorientated façade before leaving her standing there, striding from the room in his long elegant gait.

Eventually she got over her shock and made her way dazedly to the stable. The smell and warmth of the chamber steadied her emotions and the comforting presence of Aalish had her thinking rationally about the scene in the training circle. As she tacked up, she pondered over the Phantom's curious actions. He'd looked at her neck and then completely retreated behind his mask, something that she'd come to learn had all to do with his eyes and nothing to do with the physical representation. Absently Danielle's hand came up and cupped her neck. Mounting the black mare, she started off at a brisk trot through the tunnels, taking random turns when the whim called.

_It was almost as__ if he'd been betrayed all over again._ Danielle confessed, thinking of the anger that had flashed across his face before it had closed down. She shivered in memory of the ice in his gaze.

_But I didn't do anything!_ She wailed to herself urging Aalish into a gentle rolling canter. _That's it! I have to find out what's wrong with him._ She wheeled Aalish around, the petite animal spinning on a dime. Kicking her perhaps a tad harshly into a gallop Danielle took the shortest root back to the stable. Even before they'd come to a complete halt she had slid from the saddle. Within short order the mare was untacked and rubbed down. She fed the horse her evening feed, as well as Achaius' since the Phantom would usually feed the stallion at this time. Wasting no more time, she rushed back to the lair, taking advantage of the shortcuts she had learnt.

She rushed into the candle light bathed room, her eyes hunting down the familiar figure of her teacher. To her surprise he stood at the organ platform near the top of the stairs glaring at her. Danielle was certain that if looks would kill she'd be hanging suspended with her neck broken by now.

Defiantly she squared her shoulders and brought her chin up a few notches. "What the Hell is up with you!" She accused, stalking towards the stairs. She didn't get far before she was fixed to the ground by a feral snarl wrenching from his finely tuned vocal chords. In a flash he was down the stairs and his strong, elegant – deadly - hand was closing around her neck. She inhaled painfully as she felt the constriction against her windpipe, resisting the cough urge.

He twitched his hand so that she was staring into his chilling eyes, her own whiskey hues wide with fear and bewilderment. "You! You are what's up with me!" he spat in her face, his face twisting with hate and fury. "W-what?" Danielle literally choked out. He roared and bodily threw her away from him. She landed with a pained grunt, her hip and shoulder smashing against the stone floor. Coughing she climbed onto her hands and knees. Her blood froze when she heard his boots closing the distance between them. Feeling his body heat radiating off him Danielle knew he had knelt down next to her. His fingers slithered under her chin and forced her head up to look at him again.

The mask he usually kept over his eyes was gone, true the material one was still fixedly in place but the emotions turning his eyes into a storm tossed blue and green ocean were clear to her. She read pain, sorrow, and anger, so much anger. Looking deeper, she saw betrayal; both old and fresh, both raw and tender. She sucked in her breath as he snarled again, his grip on her chin increasing to bruising point.

"You have been lying to me." His tone had turned deadly calm and threatening. It succeeded in chilling her down to her very bones. "You are not what you claim to be."

"W-wha…" He cut her off with another feral snarl. The fingers of his other hand flicked at her neck, triggering a tickle that urged Danielle to cough.

"Last I checked males had Adam's apples."

Author's Notes:

I don't usually do this, preferring to keep the actual story clean.

However, I really wanted my readers to know how much their support and reviews mean to me, so I made an exception.

If this proves popular I may do it more often, in any case for the most recent reviewers -

evanglia123:

Your last review was actually the one that prompted me to post this, since I myself know the agony of waiting for a new chapter and constantly refreshing. Danielle was created after I became sick of the typically 'back of the bus' characters that occur much too frequently. I prescribe to the theory that most woman want a partner that CAN sweep them off their feet and fix all their problems, but that it doesn't necessarily mean they stand by and let them DO that. And don't worry you're not blonde and you haven't missed anything, there is a backstory there and it will be revealed somewhere along the way. I intend for this story to go for a long long time, if I can drag it out XD.

blacktalon117:  
Thankyou, it's nice to know that you were impressed enough to pull you from you're stalker-ish admiration. Lawl, really I am grateful for the praise. I'm also looking forward to how this progresses, since there is no real plot developed that doesn't vaguely float around in my head.

Anonymous Fellow:

The anonymous ones are oddly often the most eloquent reviewers, who'da thought it?

Anyway, you mentioned my character representation of Erik or 'Boss' as Danielle so affectionately refers to him.

I am constantly worrying over that, since I don't want him to lose that dangerous edge that is always a very real part of any worthwhile Phantom. Occasionally, if there is a quote that really stuck with me from another POTO that I may have read you may notice I'll insert it in here. I do it as a nod to those other great authors and how well they envisioned the Phantom, and I will always try to accurately give credit.

Danielle's mouth requires several buckets of bleach in truth, considering her repertoire.

Thankyou Again to my readers, sorry for the cliff-hanger but we have sadly reached the end of my pre-written chapters and venture into the unknown. This may mean I slow down some more, especially considering I am in the process of looking for a new job. But fear not, this story will not simply stop, ever.


	15. Chapter 15, Anomalies

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Fifteen)}**

Fury roared to torrid life in Danielle's eyes, her jaw clenched and her hands bracing her torso curled into fists. Her short nails rasped against the rough calloused surface of her palms, testament to her hard work.

Her eyes spit sparks and Danielle wrenched her jaw from his grip. Dredging up her training, she dropped a shoulder and rolled swiftly away from him. On her feet in an instant with a wince for her sore hip and shoulder, she glared at him fiercely. "You. Bastard," She said softly while raking a hand back through her tousled hair. The motion caused the already loose ribbon to relinquish its hold and it fluttered to the ground. Danielle's strawberry locks had grown slightly longer over the past weeks and set free the tresses settled around her shoulders in silky waves.

"I never lied to you," She and the phantom were now prowling in circles, eyes fixated on the other. She winced mentally, because although she knew she had not lied to his face she knew she was about to do exactly that. "There are _some_ things I don't have to share with anybody." She halted her fluid prowl, boring her golden gaze into his whilst her hands clenched at her sides. "Not even you." She added acidly.

He stopped a few feet away, facing her. In a gesture of dominance, he crossed his arms over his loose fitting white shirt. "You withheld information I would have thought necessary." He scoffed coldly, the attractive lines set in composed lethal calm.

Her mouth visibly tightened, "Do you think I withhold this information from only you, keep the anomalies of my physical self a closely horded secret from just you! Perhaps you think this whole charade was enacted simply to fool you!" She hurled at him her voice rising with the force of her passionate resentment of all the things she couldn't say.

"By the time I was even aware of my uniqueness it was too late! I would have been shunned, placed in a brothel and _used._" She shuddered; it had been a long fear of hers. Danielle swallowed, preparing to tell him as much of the truth as she dared whilst still guarding her secret. This was not the first time someone had spotted her lack of an Adams apple, or become suspicious and in some instances oddly attracted to her femininity. She knew her lines by heart. "Because of my age I would have been molested by those with a taste for the young and _unusual_. Then I would have become just another one of the _freaks_ when I got too old." She closed her eyes for a moment fighting off the sickening dread the thought had always called forth, for the truth in those words was near enough. "Becoming found out was too much of a risk, one that I am still deeply terrified of." She shot at him once she'd opened her eyes.

He'd gone quiet, regarding her with a cool gaze. "Can you blame me for trying to protect myself? I took what I had and made it work for me the best it could!" Danielle's eyes narrowed, "If you can honestly resent me for doing that than you are a hypocritical fool." She hissed. "For isn't that exactly what you have been doing?"

She watched with a somewhat sadistic pleasure as his visible eye widened as the significance hit home.

He growled and in three long strides he'd grabbed her around the waist, pinning her to his rock solid body to better prevent her escape. "That is nothing like this." He snarled in her face, his breath fluttering across her cheeks. Danielle loured up at him, drawing her lips back in a silent growl. "That is everything like this." She matched the deadly calm of his voice with her own. It enraged her that here she was trapped against him, being blatantly threatened and yet her body insisted in heating and her pulse race at the feeling of her body fitting so perfectly against his. Setting her jaw she forced herself to believe it was only adrenaline causing her reaction as she grimly began to fight his unyielding hold on her, thrashing against his body.

He growled an altogether primal and animalistic sound, Danielle stilled as she sensed it was not prompted from anger. She looked up into his eyes and was shocked to witness a quickly tamped down spark of lust. Her jaw slacked in astonishment but in the next instant she'd been abruptly released from his hold.

"Forget me… Forget all of this… Leave me alone… Forget all you've seen… Go… Go now, go now and leave me!" He whirled away from a frozen Danielle, appearing lost in his memories.

Suddenly her muscles were free and she frowned at his retreating form, she knew now he hadn't understood the lie she had been telling him. Too self-involved and locked within his own anguish to allow himself to see the image she had so neatly painted for him. Oddly she held no desire to clarify the lie she was telling him; she rather thought it would be satisfying to slap him with the very believable lie after he'd made a fool of himself. "What!" She raged stopping him in his tracks. He kept his back to her even as she continued, "After all this time! All this effort! You're just going to give up on me like that! And don't give me any offal about it's because I'm different! If anything I've proved myself more than capable of…." He cut her off as he spun back and glared at her.

"That is indeed the reason. Because you are _female_, but not for the reason you proclaim." Danielle heard the anguish in his voice and kept her tongue, checking the scoff impulse. "I have taught and nurtured a woman before, and all she did was take and leave." He bowed his head, broad proud shoulders slumping under an invisible weight.

Danielle could have smacked her forehead it was so obvious. _Of course!_ Christine had really pulled a number on him. She took a step towards him wishing she could reach out and comfort his anguished soul. Instantly his shoulders straightened, his head jerked up and his body stiffened. _"My mind has touched the farthest horizons of mortal imagination and reaches ever outward to embrace infinity. There is no knowledge beyond my comprehension, no art or skill upon this entire planet that lies beyond the mastery of my hand... But as long as I live, no woman will ever look on me in love."_ [Susan Kay. _Phantom_. Delacorte Press, 1991.] He told her, almost seeming to Danielle's ears to be repeating a well-known mantra to himself. Danielle had no words; they'd all dried in her throat at the melancholy proclamation.

He looked at her with a dark smirk curling his lips. "Now _she_ is silent. What? No impassioned words to fling back into my personage?" He scoffed flourishing his hand at her in a thespian gesture. Danielle sighed softly, the susurration of sound travelling easily in the eerily silent cavern.

"You're a fool." She mumbled rubbing the bridge of her nose, both because she thought he was and knew it would add to the believability of her eventual disclosure.

"Excuse me?" He asked, face set in that same stern cast.

"If nothing else came of this fiasco you can't deny we built some form of warped friendship, you taught me to look beyond the obvious to see the real truth." She said as she bent and retrieved her ribbon in a weary movement. She gathered her hair into its normal ponytail, mocking her own words as she replayed them in her head. Glancing up she caught a flicker in The Phantom's eyes. Her brow puckered but Danielle was unable to fathom the emotion that had evaded her scrutiny. He had it right, she was exactly what he thought she was, and here she was deceiving him.

Danielle had to fight at keeping rancor and exasperation out of her voice for the following sentence, there was no lie in her emotions. "I worked my ass off, and I think I outstripped any _boys_ you could have recruited." Her accentuation of that word was filled with sarcasm and venom, both in fitting with her complex lie. Her next words were punctuated with some asperity, "I may still be two circles off but I've managed to get past your defences a few times. Two more weeks in that rope course and I think I can shave off 2 minutes of your time, and I still beat you on our nightly rides. Though I admit my music isn't all that good on the piano I've picked everything else up damned fast!" She threw up her hands, patience strained. If she was within touching distance she probably would have drilled a whole in his chest with her pointer by now. "I _know_ you got royally screwed by Miss Daae." She paused to emphasize that fact. "But seriously you can't equate me to her, because you so obviously haven't been paying attention I'm _far_ from anything like her," Her lips quirked into a grim smile.

"So if you really wish to end this 'friendship' or apprenticeship, whatever the hell it is, and continue to believe your stupid conviction; so be it! If not," She shrugged. "_You_ must come get me." Grabbing her cap from her pocket, she set it on her head at its customary angle. "Goodbye forever or for now, it's up to you." She shrugged with a dismissive hand gesture and pivoted.

Danielle reached the boat and clambered in letting her gaze wander over to the brooding profile of The Phantom. She shook her head once more and picking up the pole began to guide herself smoothly across the mist shrouded lake.

_Bloody Hell!_ Was the loudest phrase playing over in his mind as he silently watched Danielle leave.

Funny that. Women always seemed to be leaving him. Though this time, he could allow, it was because he'd driven her away. As she disappeared through the portcullis he let out a colourful oath, realising too late that it was one Danielle was fond of uttering. He swore again, stalking to one of the various desks stationed about his workplace. He fell back against the desk's edge. Dropping his head into his hands he let his shoulders slump again. Feeling the cool leather texture of his mask he groaned the sound of the long suffering and ripped it from his face. He placed it on the table by his hip and took a moment just staring at it.

Tearing his eyes away he levered himself to his feet and walked to his organ, ascending the stairs in that silent graceful way he had cultivated early in his 'career' –if you could call it that. Seating himself at his instrument, he let his fingers skip across some random keys before setting too with a melody. He abruptly stopped as he realised he was playing the same tune Danielle had mastered just the other day. His movement displaying his agitation he jumped up from the keys and backed away. Turning his back on the traitorous organ he gazed over the lake of his lair. But in what he was beginning to recognise as pattern it brought forth further thoughts of Danielle, this time the day they had sparred in the water. His jaw twitched as he fought to deny the obvious.

It was obvious when he finally stopped fighting to think about it by the sudden groan, not dissimilar to his earlier such sound, and his hand brought slamming down on his thigh. He ignored the sting, in fact he relished in it distracting him from his thoughts momentarily. But like a broken record he was brought back to it.

He admitted, to himself at least, that they had formed a friendship; as unlikely as it was for him to earn someone's amity. But damn it to hell! He didn't want friendship with anyone. _Liar,_ that voice he'd long since thought gone whispered fiercely. The low rush of air that swept from his parted lips wasn't long in coming. Fine, he didn't want anything with any female. _Liar,_ repeated unrelentingly in his head.

_The Devil take it!_ Grudgingly he finally admitted that yes he wanted friendship, something he had long been denied. But here was the catch; he didn't want to feel anything for any female but Christine. The thought of the woman still set his blood to flame from both desire and betrayal.

Indeed he was still deeply in love with Christine, though some may have called it an obsession. His lips thinned, eyes darkening with thought. That's why his reaction to Danielle's young supply body writhing against him confused him so. Just deliberating on that particular memory had his pulse increasing to a rapid tempo and he found himself wondering what it would take to make that body go limp with pleasure, instead of lifelessness for once in his life. It only deepened his confusion to remember the regret that had washed over him as Danielle had put her charmingly strawberry hair back in that style so many boys favoured. Danielle with her hair out had looked so obviously female it had evoked his self-disgust that he had not realised sooner. He remembered how even within the fog of his temper he had wondered detachedly if her hair was as soft and silky as it appeared and if that clean soap smell with the somewhat cinnamon aftertaste that hovered about her was reflected in her hair. Grimacing with chagrin he left the organ platform, moving to his bedchamber. He lowered himself to the soft silk-sheathed mattress, leaving his legs to dangle over the side. Danielle was dangerous; he could not allow their association to continue outside the delegation of audience to the Opera Ghost. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Yes he would leave Danielle alone; despite the traitorous feeling constricting his chest at the thought he was determined to do just that.

_And yet?_ He couldn't help thinking over her parting words, still smarting a bit about her accusation of his inability to see. _Daniel, what were you trying to tell me?_ He mused, a hint of acid flavouring the tone as he sat up on his elbows. Was it possible he was wrong? Rejecting that thought instantly he rolled onto his side and grabbing a pillow stuffed it beneath the damaged side of his face. It had been doing well lately and no boils had split, which meant no foul smelling discharge smeared across his pillows in the morning. He really hated doing his laundry, in what world was the Opera Ghost cleaning his drawers an intimidating image? He scoffed even as his mind shifted back to his current problem.

He replayed the entire event, dissecting all dialogue that had passed between them. She'd mentioned being different, and unusual in some way. Was there something about her body that made her damaged? He considered the possibility, seeing a different meaning to many of her words from this new territory. Slowly he conceded that maybe he hadn't been wrong, but perhaps just misled? But in what way? What exactly had she meant when she said, "The anomalies of my physical self." It all kept replaying in his head over and over. Eventually he pushed up from the bed, grabbing his cloak and swirling it on with a billow of black material. He left the chamber and strode back into the main chamber, his shoes lightly tapping in the amphitheatre style cavern as he traversed the stairs quickly. As he passed the desk from earlier he swiped his mask and had it back in place without ever removing his eyes from the tunnel entrance ahead. Smoothing his black wig to make sure it was still neat and none of the edges were detectable he ducked through the entrance and strode down the tunnel. He wanted answers, and Daniel was going to answer them. His aquamarine eyes flared briefly as his entire form was swallowed up by the thick blackness, cascading around his broad shoulders and streaking down his back like incorporeal smoke as he blended seamlessly into its depths.

Author's Notes:

Thankyou so much for your support, the sheer amount of reviews I got for one chapter left me awed.

There were so many of you, and I'm sorry that I can't respond to everyone.

But, if you do have a question please feel free to PM me, and I will try to respond as soon as I'm able.

Now, to those reviews that stood out:

Anonymous Fellow:

Meg will eventually come into play, you'll see when and you'll see why. XD

Sorry, don't want to give too much away.

I'm a little concerned I may have stepped away from the Phantom character in this chapter, but I felt it was necessary to set up the storyline progression.

M.A. Ehrenreich:

Due Date: Sunday 1st May

HA put that in your peace pip and smoke it!

Not pay attention - pfft - I always pay attention to my readers; my time doesn't always agree with me though.

Thanks for the encouragement, oddly I think setting a due date helped in this instance. Though I doubt it will again XD.

Silken Danser:

Shucks, now you've got me all aflutter.

LittleMargarita:

Perhaps, but where would the fun be in that? Besides, she has always appeared rather boyish, who typically have minimal adam's apples until they get older. Plus Erik's never really had any cause to observe her neck very closely until now.

Madam Giry. Ulterior motives? Never... cough...

So no cliff-hanger this time, I try to avoid them if I can. I suppose that might have been what motivated me to get this out so quick, since I hate cliff-hangers when I'm reading a story.

So I leave you good readers, as ever your obedient servant.

-Snickerspods


	16. Chapter 16, Darned Socks & Sheet Music

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Sixteen)}**

_Self-righteous, conceited, egotistical…_ Danielle had been ranting for the last hour or so and at last it seemed she was running out of epithets to delegate the Phantom. She'd already used up most of her curses; cut a swath through the foul and loathsome descriptive words and had worked her way into the narcissistic adjectives.

The path she tread, or rather rampaged, was rapidly emptying of people as they caught sight of her mutinous expression. Her mood was not improved any by the fact that she was the one to blame for the deceit, and that she intended to only deceive him further. Floorboards squeaked as the afternoon crowd squashed themselves to the sides to give her a clear path. The audience falling into a tense silence as Danielle passed. The rhythmic sound of her angry footfalls filling the yawning void their sudden silence had produced. Danielle was aware of the half curious, half terrified eyes following her for as long as she remained in sight, only for a set of new eyes to take up the scrutiny as she moved into the vicinity of more individuals.

The opera house was always alive with people; you just had to know where to look. And then sometimes - which was in fact more often than not - you couldn't see for the crowds of rambunctious socialites and _other_ filling nearly every available space. The classic rise and fall of the Opera house's proverbial breath meant at any moment it could be busting with people or depressingly empty. Unless, as previously stated, one knew where to look.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, Danielle had burst from one of the many trap doors to find she had caught the afternoon rush of people. Where they came from she had no clue. Though she knew enough to discern that they were of the variety of people that were one part shady, one part honest, and three parts out-for-themselves.

There was one so called "lady" that visited regularly, to socialise with the opera house workforce, spanning from the ballerinas to even some of Danielle's boys. Of course, she'd been thoroughly 'persuaded' to keep her beady blue eyes off them. The way she'd eyes up Andy had sickened Danielle. Particularly since, due to their information gathering ways, Danielle knew that this 'Lady Pertunia' was actually Lord Bryley. He was a wealthy man, wealthy enough to keep his paedophilic tastes and weird fetishes under wraps and keep him at least in name 'respectable'.

For the moment the transvestite was nowhere in sight. Which were perhaps for the best, since in Danielle's current state of mind she might have rended strips from the 'Lady'. As she rounded the corner, she was confronted with an excited freckled face. Hurriedly Danielle zoomed out and focused on the whole face, recognising Tony as his bright green eyes grinned at her. Immediately her anger calmed, though it simmered below the surface. "Daniel!" Tony exclaimed, obviously glad he'd found her. He didn't look panicked or scared, so Danielle's immediate concern died down. "It's awesome, all the guys, empty, Vorence…"

"Tony, calm the hell down. What is it?" She asked calmly, whilst firmly closing a hand over Tony's mouth. His response was a muffled reply that left Danielle's palm feeling violated. With a grimace she removed her palm and wiped it on Tony's vest. "Okay, repeat." She ordered.

"The waxing of the stage floor has just finished. It's completely empty, except all the guys. We've been waiting for you. Now come-on." And without further ado Tony made a grab for her hand and tried to physically haul her after him. Indulgently she let the impulsive individual drag her along, only putting up enough resistance to save face. The news had set an anticipatory thrill of exhilaration jittering along her nerves. This was not the first theatre they'd helped refurbish, and they'd long ago discovered one of the greatest perks.

The scene that met her eyes when they reached the main core theatre was a familiar and welcome distraction. The twins sat on the shiny surface, removing their worn shoes so they remained in their heavily darned socks. The rest of the crew, except Tony, had already removed their shoes. Vorence was gazing mournfully at his big toe, protruding from a brand new hole in his dark grey sock.

Danielle's mouth twisted into a sardonic smile as she trailed behind Tony directly up to Vorence. "Found her," he chimed, sounding for the entire world like he'd completed some mysterious mission.

"Alright, you lot got me here," She gazed around at her crew, deliriously happy she still had these idiots. "Let's slide!" She punched the air as she spoke, wincing as her bones reminded her she'd been thrown around a short span of time ago. Immediately they were rushing past her and braking suddenly only to hurdle haphazardly across the slippery floor. Danielle took the time to quickly discard her shoes, remembering how she'd only darned her socks the week before, and made a dash across the floor. Taking up a pose more suited to the as yet unheard of surfing she cruised smoothly across the floor whilst Blake made use of his ice-skating skills and danced circles around the others as they fought to hold their balance.

Danielle cracked up laughing as she managed to jump over Tony who'd lost his balance and simply slid along his belly. Vorence was holding hands with the twins whilst they had their inner foot anchored on top of his nearest one and were making an odd trapezoid formation as they slid. Raymond and Andy, the clowns as always, tried to swing out on some of the roping whilst making lame Tarzan impressions. They didn't quite pull off the landing though and ended up with some sore ass bones. Danielle had to stop because she was bent over with laughter.

Clutching at her stomach she wasn't really expecting to be suddenly grabbed and slingshot across the mirror smooth timber. Her instincts kicking in she knew that if she didn't take control of this manoeuvre she would crash into the backstage area rather painfully. Danielle quickly searched for anything she could use. It was then she noticed Vorence holding his hands out to her, a grin on his face. Understanding dawned quickly enough for Danielle to reach out and grasp the offered catapult; immediately she felt inertia grab at her as she was spun and slung back the way she had come. She smirked evilly as she saw her attacker, Blake, looking at her with bewilderment. Bringing her shoulder up Danielle rammed him, taking him down and sliding across the floor as they wrestled half-heartedly. Coming to a halt Danielle grinned as she looked down at Blake's back, straddling his lower torso as she held his arms clamped up between his shoulder blades; sniggering when he cried uncle. She jumped off him, releasing her iron hold on him. Danielle crossed her arms as he climbed to his feet, regarding him smugly. "Jesus Daniel, when did you learn to do that?" Jake asked, strolling up behind her. Turning Danielle noticed his smile first, always so unexpectedly white against the rich chocolate of his complexion. "A smart person always keeps something in reserve," She countered, remembering with some agitation the day the Phantom had used that specific trick on her and then taught her how to perform it herself.

Any further conversation was proved impossible as all three had their feet swept out from under them. Danielle was able to glimpse Raymond careening through on his side. Tucking her shoulder Danielle took the brunt of the fall before she used its centrifugal force to roll quickly and jump up not 4 paces away; cracking a grin as she surveyed the less than graceful recovery of Blake and Jake. Raymond meanwhile was sliding on his back now, flipping them off as he slid backwards. "Beat that bitches!" he called even as he nearly fell off the stage edge. Danielle smirked conspiratorially as she watched him climb onto his feet after a quick save. She waited just long enough for him to sense her gaze before dashing towards him, collapsing her legs as she drew closer so that she torpedoed accurately at his motionless form; no doubt experiencing something akin to deer-in-headlights. She kept her lithe shape as dynamic as possible, slicing towards Raymond at steadily increasing speeds.

Through wind smarting eyes Danielle could see Raymond had shook off his momentary shock and was trying to find a way to outsmart her, his gaze flashing around desperately trying to find anything to help him. Her speed was too great though and before he had anymore time to formulate a plan Danielle was ramming his legs out from under him even as she herself went over the edge of the stage. She wouldn't be the phantom's apprentice if she hadn't thought of this occurrence and she neatly flipped and landed in a technically perfect stance facing the stage. Raymond, meanwhile found himself smashing into the recently refurbished plush velvet stalls. They'd been covered in white sheets to protect them from the dust and other fine powders that always got kicked up during work of any kind. By some miracle he landed in the seat itself, right way round even, the sheets billowing out and shrouding his figure in the prolific yards of fabric.

He floundered for a bit before standing up abruptly and pretending to dust himself off, whilst still shrouded, with mock dignity. "RUN! It's the Phantom of the Opera! Come to take his revenge with Sheet magic!"

"I'm sorry, did you say _shit music_?"

"_**I'll get you!" **_Raymond waved his arms around, the disembodied voice coming from the direction of his head. The two other voices had been Tony, Will and Bill [doing their sometimes creepy unison talking].

Simultaneously everyone burst out laughing, Danielle made a grab for the closest support to hold her up as she laughed. She had to take a few steps to find one, but eventually she felt her fingers close around a warm solid shoulder. Still laughing she leaned her weight into the welcome support as Raymond continued to wave around, tears clouding her vision as she laughed harder. "You better watch you don't break your necks, and keep your hand at the level of your eyes!" Will and Bill chimed harmonically, pretending to hang themselves with invisible ropes and break their necks. Perhaps she had more reason to laugh quite so hard at the blatant mocking, but Danielle felt no shame in it; it helped that everyone else seemed as helpless with laughter as she did.

"Christine! Oh Christine! Where for art thou Christine! Why did you not see the adoration in my abduction of you and subsequent torture of your pretty boy fop Rrrrrraaoool." Frank, not one to be left out, flung his arm dramatically across his forehead and flopped sideways into Jake's arms. Jake, caught off guard surprisingly -perhaps because of his laughing - only just managed to catch him. Frank was a big guy and they both ended up crashing to the floor when Jake lost his footing, aided by the slick floor.

The stage roared with laughter, the room and its harmonics escalating the sound to just about make the room vibrate. All but Danielle were laughing hard; she was currently feeling rather queasy, that last jab at the Phantom had abruptly robbed her of any humour in the situation.

With her eyes contemplating the bright sheen of the newly minted floor Daniel mused of her time with the Phantom. She admitted - to herself at least - just how deeply his feelings for Christine coursed, and that day to day he lived in a world of pain. As someone that had always been exiled from human companionship and society he'd had no way of knowing how to properly woo a woman of Christine's fragility. Or so Danielle presumed, she'd had to do a lot of guessing; but her instinct told her she was not far off the mark. She may dislike the phantom right now, and resent the crushing guilt that lying to him produced, but she couldn't make fun of a pain so strong.

"**BREAKING YOUR NECK WOULD BE TOO KIND. Your kind deserves nothing but slow, painful suffocation." **The room went deadly still, Danielle swallowed painfully; her throat had quickly dried out.

With something more than trepidation, but less than terror she slowly turned her gaze to her support structure. Sure enough Danielle looked into the burning gaze of the Phantom, rage blazing visibly across his aristocratic features and turning his blue green eyes to spinning emerald. Quickly she snatched her hand from his shoulder, wincing slightly as she realised just how close she was to the orchestra pits ground entrance. At least she knew where he'd come from, there was another one of his many secret exits down there. It didn't take a genius to guess their excess noise would have drawn him close, and their insults drew him out. Finally he lifted his gaze from her and focused it on Raymond, who was statue still. He obviously couldn't see anything, but The Phantom possessed a voice of unimaginable talent. It was clear Raymond knew exactly who had addressed him.

Curiously Danielle felt eyes on her, turning her head marginally to see the rest of the gang was watching her. Intent on her signal they waited for her usually forthcoming plan. _Shit,_ she thought. Challenging him was not particularly high on her list of things at the moment. Actually on the contrary, she quite wanted to throw him onto the flat of his back and take out her pent up frustration and guilt on him. However it was not as simple as that; he was still functioning under the assumption that he knew her secret. Never mind that he was right. She also knew firsthand the kind of skill he possessed, and to be completely honest, she felt like she had somehow betrayed him. It was galling, this emotion choking her.

The Phantom took a menacing step forward, the clear sound of his blade leaving the scabbard bright music in the silence. With a scowl on his face he advanced on Raymond, spinning in a rather theatrical move before moving his sword in a graceful circle towards the approximation of Raymond's face.

Many voices sprung into action as the blade flashed towards Raymond, but the loudest and most forceful saw the blade stop millimetres from his intended victims face. It was, of course, Danielle. Her eyes flashed daggers at his back, a real one pressed between his shoulder blades. She may have sympathised with the man, but there was no way in hell she'd let him hurt one of her boys without a fight. "DON'T, or you'll find yourself with another scar." She pressed the point until she felt it prick his skin, only slightly.

Author's Notes:

Sorry about the long delay, I have never hated my work more and yet it continues to draw me away from that which I most enjoy. I am certain my boss hates me, and my co-worker is attempting to undermine me and everything I do. I want you all to know that your continued support allows me to forget the work I abhor and escape from it for a time; a welcome relief that keeps me sane.

Now a few responses to reviews to keep you all guessing XD:

Rippertish:

I have not seen it though I naturally know of it. To me it seems to victimise and criminalise all the wrong people, completely turning the story around. It changes the feel and the tone, so to me it is a standalone, another telling of the possible outcome; not the one I choose though. I might just be over romanticising it, but it is how I feel.

Avette:

You're not the first to think she's a herm, I'm going to tell you now she's not. Danielle is a perfectly formed, fully hetero female; no Y chromosomes in there anywhere.

I was hoping I made it clear that she was deliberately misleading him, or more accurately leading him deliberately in the direction she wanted him to go.

It'll all make sense in the next chapter.

That's it for now, sorry about the cliff hanger, but there was really no other place to stop this chapter that wasn't... Sorry?

I'll be lurking, as always, in the margins.

Your Author

- Snickerspods

P.S. For those of you who don't know, 'snickerspods' is a snack that I have yet to encounter in any other country outside of Australia. It's kind of like the innards of a snickers, without the peanuts, in a light chocolate almost-biscuit type cup about the size of a 1.25L bottle cap. It's very good, and my favourite snack when I'm into a good writing jag.


	17. Chapter 17, Deep Bruising

**[{POTO}]****Run****and****hide****but****a****face****will****still****pursue****you!** **{(Chapter****Seventeen)}**

He turned his head to stare at her through his mask, what Danielle saw there made her peculiarly uneasy. She could have sworn it was pride, but in the next instant, her dagger was flying through the air as he spun and knocked it from her grasp with a vicious blow to her wrist. Though she tried, she couldn't smother the small gasp of pain as she felt something crack in her wrist. She had no time for pain though, instead she hugged the hurt wrist to her chest as she quickly flashed a second knife from the twin sheath on her other calf. Only that morning she'd put them on, and right now she was very grateful. The irony that he'd given them to her not long ago was not lost on her.

Quickly she spun to her right and blocked a blow from his much longer blade, knowing she was at a disadvantage with his longer reach. _Damnit!_ She thought as she parried another blow intended for her midsection. He had her on defence, and any fighter knew it was much preferable to be dealing out offence. Thankfully however, fighting practice with him day after day had helped her learn some of his pattern. It was always changing, but he did have a tendency to prefer certain moves. Like for instance his showmanship, he couldn't resist a good twirl.

Her single-minded focus on keeping herself alive meant she was oblivious to the sound of her mates, until she heard a familiar bellow from Blake. "Heads UP!" Chancing a quick look she saw her missing dagger sailing straight at the Phantom's back. Before she had time to consider what she was doing, she blocked his rapier with the blade of her dagger, ignoring the screech of metal against metal as she slid it down the longer weapons blade. When her fingers scraped painfully against the ornate hilt she twisted the dagger and forced the Phantom to pull his blade away or risk dropping it all together, of course this meant she lost her blade but she was still running on instinct and failed to care. With his blade momentarily out of action she quickly slipped past his defences to come up against his chest. Without the time to marvel at her reaction speed -which had consumed seconds only- she gripped his shoulders and using her weight threw them both down out of the path of the weapon, they rolled together over the lip of the orchestra pit. Danielle felt powerful arms protecting her as they rolled and felt herself deftly flipped as they fell so she landed with an undignified 'oof' on top of The Phantom. Vaguely she registered clattering footfalls coming towards them as well as the sound of Raymond angrily trying to free himself from his mess of sheets. Most of her attention however was focused on The Phantom, staring intently into her eyes. After a quick blink to focus her thoughts she narrowed her gaze, curling her lip slightly so that he didn't think she'd forgotten his earlier accusations. As the voices and footfalls got closer, she was swiftly picked up in his arms and before she could react, they were dropping through the floor. _Didn__'__t__know__that__one__was__there,_she thought sardonically as she smelt the familiar tang of wet stone when they passed into the catacombs. Their landing was rather jarring but The Phantom stayed on his feet, managing to hold onto her at the same time. Looking up at his face, the side she was viewing his unmasked side, he looked down at her. _Eeep,_she thought for just a moment before she shifted her weight and smacked at his hands. "Let Me Down," She told him carefully, as she delivered another sharp smack to the hand holding up her legs. She took some hasty steps away from him once she felt the stone beneath her feet, staring at him in the semi gloom she now realised was being cast by the torch a few metres down the tunnel. "Are you hurt?" he asked, the timbre of his voice lower than she expected. "Well yes," she reminded him, vaguely gesturing at her wrist as they fell back on silence.

For quite a long time they stared at each other, to the point the light began to dim as the torch began to run out of fuel. "Thank you," he eventually uttered, his tone grudging but sincere. "Huh?" Danielle said stupidly, thrown off by this unexpected turn of events.

He looked uncomfortable, his gaze dropping to her wrist she still held close to her chest. "Come-on, the longer we leave that the worse it'll get. I shall have to teach you some first aid skills; I don't have to tell you in my line of work they're essential." He turned on his heal, his cape billowing out behind him. "Hold up a minute Houdini," Danielle called as she trotted to catch up with his tall frame. He stopped unexpectedly at her shout and hastily she put on the brakes, narrowly avoiding running into his broad back. She grumbled impatiently and backed up as he turned to face her. Hearing the familiar call of Achaius she shifted to peer around him, spotting the stallion tethered to an iron ring not far down the tunnel.

"First you thank me, and then you tell me you'll have to teach me something new." She quirked an eyebrow and cocked her head as she shifted her attention back on him, positively exuding smugness. His answer was a scowl of some severity, though muted. "First we shall discuss some things before I will explain anything to you," he told her firmly, grabbing her by her undamaged wrist and jerking her forward. Danielle allowed herself to cuss at him as she collided with his chest, picked up and deposited rather unceremoniously in the saddle a second later. She almost hissed with indignation as The Phantom mounted up behind her, ignoring the sudden jittering in her stomach. She very nearly elbowed him in the stomach, if he hadn't caught her arm and held it up behind her back with one hand. With the other he gathered the reins and urged Achaius into a brisk canter, guiding the creature effortlessly through the yawning blackness, obviously unworried she'd try to use her injured wrist.

Danielle felt a moment of smug pride as they neared the main lair and she was able to identify which tunnel they approached by. Rather than listening to the tone of the giant wind instrument as he did she judged the force of the airflow through the passage, since she had still to learn to identify a note by sound alone.

Her level of ineptness with music was something of an irritation to her, though she judged it less important than her mastery of her other lessons and so pushed it to the side more oft then not.

With her injured wrist still clutched to her chest she rolled her shoulder as the Phantom sensed she wasn't about to fight him on a swiftly moving horse and released his iron hold on her. Though he was right that didn't stop her considering it, her smouldering anger and sense of guilt bolstering her outrage that he should try to harm the people she considered family.

Shortly thereafter The Phantom brought the Stallion to a halt in one of the wider tunnels nearby an entrance that would lead back to the hidden archway into his lair. Danielle had not even started thinking of ways to demonstrate her irritation before he'd swiftly slipped from the saddle, speaking softly to Achaius as Danielle was left to clamber painfully out of the saddle herself. She'd banged herself up good today she remarked to herself with agitation. Stepping back from the black silhouette of Achaius, distinguishable in the darkness only thanks to the little light cast by a nearby torch, The Phantom led him to an iron ring she'd failed to notice in the wall. Hitching his horse to the ring he then gestured at her as he stepped through into the smaller tunnel. He took the torch with him so Danielle sped after him, uncomfortable still with the utter darkness. He led her through to the lair, then up to the swan bedchamber, and instructed her to sit on the bed with a curt order. Whilst he disappeared into an adjoining chamber Danielle had learned previously was his washroom she grumbled obscenities regarding his order giving before she did as she was bid and sank gratefully onto the mattress. _Damnit,_she thought sitting there alone reflecting on her instinctual reaction back in the theatre. She had come to terms with the fact that she found him attractive, and had learned appropriately to ignore it. But her subconscious reaction to his possible injury and death had brought to light just how attached she'd become to the brute. What she felt went beyond attraction; the closest comparison she could give it was how she felt about her gang of outcast kids. To be separated from them was a concept she hated, and their pending goodbye always made her heart ach. She'd never told them her secret because of the possibility of discovery and rejection; one notion hurt more than the other but both left her feeling the sting of emptiness. They were her family, the only one she'd ever had that counted. Her emotions regarding the Phantom were all mixed up, but they definitely ran parallel for how she saw the boys.

It was with a mixture of relief and consternation that she received this revelation. Relief because she felt the brunt of her guilt drop away, she couldn't feel guilty about protecting her secret when revealing it meant she would be separated from him; the same rationalization she used regarding her ragtag family of lads. Consternation because she couldn't believe what she was getting herself into by being so attached to him; add her growing attraction to him and that was one fuse lit. Up till now being attracted to anyone had never been a problem; she'd never been able to relax enough with anyone before to allow for those feelings to grow. But with him she felt she could be more like herself, even when she had to maintain her charade.

Exasperated with herself she allowed her muscles to relax and flopped backwards into the feather mattress. _Oh__well,__I__suppose__this__is__just__another__obstacle__to__my__freedom._Danielle nodded once in a determined fashion before jolting upright when she heard him approaching.

He returned with what looked like a balm, a brace, and a length of linen in his grasp. Setting them on the bedside table, he wordlessly held his hand out for her wrist. Danielle twisted her mouth off to the side in a token show of rebellion but offered him the limb regardless; cautiously ready to take it back on a moments notice. She frowned with concentration as he began to feel the bones and ligaments with careful palpitations, grimacing occasionally when the pain got sharply worse. On these occasions, his eyes flashed to her face, measuring her reaction. After a prolonged silence of this examination, he eventually picked up the small jar of balm, and taking some, began to massage it into her skin. "It's not broken, but sprained and badly bruised. The blow I dealt probably caught a ligament, it'll be rather useless for a few weeks but you'll regain full use of it eventually." He watched his hands as he spoke, failing to notice Danielle's rapt gaze on the top of his head.

The balm was spreading warmth down to the soreness resonating all the way up her arm, soothing it in a way that relaxed her muscles. It smelt strong, and Danielle wrinkled her nose at the burning sensation, but was grateful for the relief all the same. Next was the brace, an odd wooden contraption that looked vaguely like an upside down U but seemed twisted somehow. It wasn't until he placed the central point of the u between her thumb and forefinger that she saw the twisting was cleverly designed to fit her wrist and hold it straight. It extended to just under halfway down her forearm, and The Phantom bandaged the entire length till about 4 cm over to hold it on securely before tying it off.

He sat back on his heels once he was done, having knelt down to attend her. Experimentally Danielle tried to flex her hurt right wrist, wincing at the pain but discovering she was barely able to do something as simple as twitch the injured hand. Her fingers were free to move, for the most part. These she wiggled, finding it sore to move them but tolerably so. Raising her eyes from her bandaged wrist, she saw the Phantom watching her. "Thank you," She made an effort to grin, succeeding for the most part. He gave her a look she had identified as his 'you-must-be-crazy' look.

Rising he moved to sit in a chair across from the bed. "Consider us even," he sounded so flippant, but Danielle knew him better than that by now. "Not really," she disagreed, shaking her head minimally.

"How's that?" he countered, uncovered brow raised quizzically.

"I'd be in a lot worse shape if you hadn't shielded me when I pushed you, us, out of the way; I'm probably one giant bruise after today's events but at least mine's unlikely to be deep bruising. You however; honestly I've had deep bruising, I don't know why you've not passed out yet." She shrugged, leaning back and propping herself up with her undamaged left hand.  
He grimaced, alerting Danielle to the fact that she was right. She smirked, "Told you so."

The Phantom scowled at her, standing up and divesting himself of his overcoat and waistcoat swiftly. He disregarded his cravat with a quick tug at the impeccable knot, tossing the length of silk away from himself. Danielle watched him warily, used to this level of undress because of their training sessions. He unfastened his sleeve cuffs and pushed the shirtsleeve up his arm past his elbow. Danielle gasped slightly, catching sight of the ugly mottling of his elbows. "This is going to slow me down," he mused out load, Danielle recalling it could take weeks for deep bruising to at least ease. As he began rubbing the same balm he'd used on her wrist into the area, she swore that as she watched they darkened and spread, the edges a sickening yellow pallor. Danielle sat up again, drawing her legs onto the bed and folded herself Indian style, resting both hands in her lap as she continued to watch with a sort of sick fascination at his injuries.

She couldn't stop an eyebrow from creeping up as The Phantom reached over his head and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling it off in a swift movement even she could admire. Danielle hissed in sympathy at the condition of his svelte skin, the flickering candlelight shadowing the ridges and lean lines of his athletic torso casting his bruising into painful relief. "I don't think it's deep, for the most part," He told her as he rolled his shoulders, sending his muscles rippling beneath his mottled skin. "You're probably right," Danielle agreed, eyes glued to his back. Typically, judging from what she knew of it, deep bruising wasn't quite so colourful. The Phantom rubbed more balm onto his hands and reaching behind him cautiously began working it into the lowest bruising on his back.

With his back to her he began to speak, "Before, when I accused you." There was a definite scoff hidden in there somewhere, Danielle was certain. "You implied the possibility that there was more to this story. I have considered, and I concede that the time I have put into you should not be so hastily abandoned." Danielle quirked an eyebrow, watching his hands inch up a little higher and continue their ministrations. _So__that's__how__it's__gonna__be__is__it?_She enquired mentally, smirking at his back. _Taking__the__safe__and__secure__high__road,_with a grin she leant back propping her upper body up with her hands. "I must know everything before I can make a decision," he commanded, the silence after his words seemed to grasp at the words in Danielle throat. It was sometimes easy to forget the effect he had on people, and occasionally it would sneak up on her and stun her for a moment. He commanded respect and obedience, even if you considered him a raving lunatic the impulse was still there.

Author's Note:

Sweet Jesus please don't shoot me!

I swear that I have a good reason that I just can't think of right now!

Before you get the pitchforks consider that killing me would only mean an even LONGER wait between updates.

Speaking of which:

GoblinQueen18:

I will never abandon this story, ever. I will walk once more among the living before I will let this story die.

My time is just no longer what it used to be, and I can only write when the muse is with me. You can only stare at a blinking "|" for so long before your mind runs laughing into the sunset.

CrazyDevil:

Thankyou! Danielle started as a character idea, I'd grown so sick of all the damsel in distress types out there I vowed that when/if I started writing my characters would not! be the type to sit all back-of-the-bus.

She ended up going into this one, where she grew and developed XD

I think I've said this before but I prescribe to the theory that all women want a man that CAN sweep them off their feet, but don't necessarily WANT them too.

xxBringer-Of-Deathxx:

The Phantom character has to be one of the most sensual character's on the face of this website; of course they'll be lemons XD.

However I do respect that some people do not want to read them, so when the time comes I will make it obvious when one starts and stops so they can skip over them [Or at least pretend they did XD].

shifura:

Vegetable, definitely, with green leafy bits.

Celtic-Memories:

I'm starting to think I need to re-vamp that summary. Anyone have any ideas please PM me, I sucketh at getting so much into so little.

Whenever my readers are so detailed in their reviews I get all gooey; thankyou for the support.

IGGYSlover:

Do what you gotta. Though I appreciate and even adore my readers I write for me, because I have to, and not to meet anyone else's expectations. Thankyou for hanging on this long.

M.A. Ehrenreich:

I know, it seems like a bit of a let down for such a build up. But I want to drag this out a bit longer, I mean if the whole thing was over in just 20 chapter's I'd be disappointed if I was the reader. Plus I was laying the groundwork; good foundation and all that jazz.

liseylivesforfantasy

I live, work and write in the great state of Queensland - I still think our forefathers were seriously trying to kiss-ass with that name.

LittleMargarita

Did he? /wink, wink/


	18. Chapter 18, Plateau of Emotions

**[{POTO}] Run and hide but a face will still pursue you!** **{(Chapter Eighteen)}**

Danielle took a breath, sorting the story and allowing herself to sink into her estate of lies. "When I was about 8 my father sold me into labour," she began, aware of his concentrated listening. "He could get more money for me selling me to the workforce than a brothel," Danielle caught his slight twitch at these words, knowing they made his assumptions sound more steeped in fact. "I'd proven myself a waste of money, a humiliation to the family." She felt the first lie on her tongue like a remembered taste. Immediately the air of intense listening increased and Danielle smirked. "You see, when I was still very young my father paid a lot of money to a man. The hope was that I would raise their standard of life, they were convinced this would work; my father was a scheming man, always looking for new ways to make money." That last part at least was true. She sighed, not entirely pretending to regret what she had to say. "The man performed a certain operation on me; I am what you would call a Castrato." Everything in the room froze, Danielle could swear even the whispered tones that constantly flowed through the catacombs had ceased. She kept her face carefully blank, but within she smiled amusedly. You could almost see his mind whirling over the implications, how it explained everything; Womanly figure, lack of interest in woman, shame, lack of an Adams apple, terror of being sold to a brothel. All the boxes were checked and Danielle knew it worked so perfectly that she could almost laugh; it was not for nothing she had been building her story since she was smart enough to know her situation. "After some training it became apparent that my voice was not going to get us anywhere," despite her inner thoughts her voice and face were fittingly sombre. "My father had put so much money into this; he needed some way to recoup so here I am now ten years later." She shrugged, acting as if she was trying to brush it off.

His hands had stopped moving, frozen on his lower back. "Do you want some help with that?" She asked, fighting to keep the smug out of her tone. He became unglued at her words, turning to look at her with that familiar eyebrow raised. She shrugged, feigning an expression of barely concealed shame. "Unless you've got some serious flexibility you've failed to mention, I don't think you're going to get that where it needs to go." She gestured at the jar of ointment with a mischievous grin; the expression appearing suitably forced. This was becoming far too much fun; Danielle was in danger of milking this.

The Phantom watched her closely for a moment, before handing her the jar with a brief hard look. He came to sit on the bed with his back to her, the blue and black bruising splashing shapes on his skin. Once his back was to her Danielle allowed herself to grin fully, reminding herself to stay cautious. The ointment was cool to her touch, so she rubbed it briskly between her hands before applying it to his shoulders. She felt him tense abruptly, before slowly releasing each muscle as the ointment and his will forced them into submission. "I'll answer any questions, within reason." She said, successfully sounding hesitant. She considered letting her normal boyish lilt fade a little, but decided against it; she knew from experience that less was more.

He didn't speak at first, but even a fool could feel the concentration blooming around him. "Does anyone else know this?" It wasn't what she had expected as his first question, but she obliged, "No, no one. Except perhaps Madam Giry, that woman is three kinds of wily." He turned to glance at her over his shoulder, the white of his mask unexpectedly facing her. Though Danielle was unable to see his expression, she guessed at the quizzical look in his swirling turquoise gaze. Shrugging she ran her thumbs up along each side of his spine, satisfied when he flinched but then pressed back into her touch. "The woman found me after I passed out, the first night you officially took me on. She took some liberties whilst fixing me up, figured some things out." Danielle let him stew on that as she began working lower, pressing her fingers into the grooves of his muscles and ribcage. Her hilarity had died away by now, as it finally penetrated that she had her hands on his naked back. She felt the beginnings of a flush stain her neck, and concentrated on keeping it from getting worse. He made a noncommittal sound in his throat, moving off the bed as Danielle's hands dropped from him with a slap that signalled she was done. He picked up his shirt and slipped it back on, and Danielle guessed that he was getting to the question she'd expected originally.

He kept his back to her a moment longer, watching his shadow flicker where the candlelight fought the lifelong battle of light and dark. Finally, he turned, and caught her gaze with an unerring swiftness. Danielle struggled not to fidget under his penetrating stare, the clash of his turquoise all-knowing gaze against the butterscotch of her determined glare. Deep inside of her, where her 'self' lay hidden wrapped in her layers of lies, she felt a sudden jolt of terror. _He knows_, whispered traitorously through her mind as she fought this sudden bone deep certainty with the stubborn conviction that he _could not_.

Within this simple moment, so much passed through Danielle, that as he abruptly broke their almost corporeal link she was left nearly breathless. "You are perhaps more suited to the life of outcast than I would have thought," as he spoke the Phantom moved about the room and neatly gathered his discarded garments. He pitched them neatly into a basket for this purpose and then imperiously gestured for Danielle to follow him, disappearing out the curtained doorway without waiting to see that she followed.

Danielle popped upright on the bed as he departed, growling inaudibly as she pushed to the edge of the ludicrous bed and stood. Her muscles cramped for a moment, reminding her she was far from undamaged and she automatically grabbed for something to steady herself. Pulling her hand back an instant before she made contact, Danielle blew out a breath of exasperation for almost using her injured limb. Growing more irritable, she marched after the Phantom, using her left hand to pull back the curtain with a verging on violent movement. _What's with him?!_ She grumbled to herself, mulling over the sudden return to his normal grand manner. She'd been expecting something akin to the Spanish inquisition. Questions and accusations, possible disgust on his part; castratos were not generally a topic of polite conversation so to speak. This sudden turn around had Danielle slightly confused, and she hated being confused, it made her feel not in control and vulnerable.

When she spotted him, he was down by the water's edge, pulling the little flat-bottomed boat in by its mooring chain. She had reached his side by the time it bumped against the stone floor with a hollow thump. "Get in," he commanded, tilting his head down to stare at her when she did not immediately do as told. Danielle was already glaring up at him and met his gaze with a hard look. Due to their proximity she had to crane her neck more than she would've liked; cursing her height for the millionth time. When he remained silent Danielle ground her teeth in frustration. "What the hell!" she finally exploded, barely shy of yelling. He quirked his eyebrow, turquoise eyes lighting briefly, with what Danielle knew was mirth. It was quick but she caught it, and perversely it cooled her temper. "I tell you my "big secret" and you just walk off?" she asked, considerably calmer, quirking her own eyebrow in something of a mirror image.

His mouth pulled into a smirk that shouldn't have been sensual but made her stomach drop for a second. "For a castrato you're amazingly glib about it," he pointed out as he gripped her upper arm and all but forced her into the boat. To prevent herself taking an impromptu dip in the freezing lagoon Danielle clambered aboard, shrugging off his hand with an agile slip that left him clutching air as she did. "Yeah well, what you call glib I call resigned." Danielle mumbled as she settled into her preferred seat. "Not like it'll just grow back," her blatant sarcasm was so thick Danielle could have cut it out and tailored it into a smart winter overcoat. She waved her hands in a vague gesture of growth, snorting with the mental image.

She had already guessed he intended to escort her back, rather than sending her on her merry way. Sure enough, he gracefully stepped aboard and began to push them away from the shore with the stored pole, maintaining his detached silence. She watched him effortlessly guiding their vessel and grumbled as he hit the hidden lever without any discernible hesitation. With the required dramatic gush of water the portcullis and curtains rose, uncovering the waterway out of the Phantom's lair. Automatically she ducked and covered as they sailed under, trying to avoid the large drips from the sodden drapes in vain. She swore as one caught her on the back of the neck, slithering chillingly under her collar. Trying to shrug the uncomfortable feeling away she brought her gaze back onto the Phantom and abruptly a surprised laugh bubbled up and spilled over as she caught sight of him. Not even he it appeared could quiet avoid the fat drops from the absorbent but remarkably undamaged drapery. He'd also, apparently, caught the worst of it. Big obvious dollops dotted his white shirt, plastering the spots to his shoulders and down his back in short trails. His wig, for Danielle had figured that out quickly, sported a few caught drops; more fortunate drips slid onwards and trickled down to drench his collar. But what had startled a laugh out of Danielle was his expression. It was a mix between disgust and surprise, with a rare flash of mortification pulling his face into a bizarre amalgamation. His only visible eyebrow was quirked high in the typical surprise position, with his nose slightly wrinkled and his usually deliciously sensual mouth curved distinctly down in each corner. Danielle sucked in her breath as the impulse to kiss that mouth back into its usual shape struck with a viciousness she didn't know it could. The abrupt halt to her mirth brought his gaze swinging back to her as his face cleared and settled into wry bemusement.

Growling mentally at herself Danielle crossed her arms and gave him what could only be called a _Look_. "I don't pretend to understand what goes on in your opium addled brain, and I can even accept that usually I'm not going to get a straight answer; but _I want one now_." She told him clearly, getting straight to the point. She kept her gaze locked on him, and wondered in that spare part of her brain that was always thinking how he could steer when he wasn't breaking the stare either.

"We shall continue your training, even my pride must buckle under the hypocrisy of abandoning our efforts just because of what you are," The Phantom didn't even pretend he didn't know what she meant, and Danielle appreciated the unaccustomed straightness. "There's a first," she couldn't resist adding, grinning at the glare he shot her. "We shall discuss this at length tomorrow night; I require time to process this new information and neither of us are in particularly fine mettle at present. We will both benefit from a night of rest," The Phantom ended his sentence with a finality that suggested strongly that he wished now for silence. His face appeared introspective in the twilight gloom of the underground, his strong jaw line catching Danielle's attention as she watched him. Impotent anger flickered around her consciousness as she tried to stem her strong reaction to him, hating this uncontrollable part of her. Honestly, the man had only to look at her and vital organs turned to mush. Thankfully she was able to shuffle her reactions to the back of her mind nowadays and focus on the present task; but they were no less powerful or diminished.

"Opium?" The Phantom's sudden query into the silence startled Danielle from her inner musings, and she snorted with amusement. "I was thinking of several others, but they'd all make a sailor blush and seemed somehow crass." This was said with such sincerity that she heard his quite chuckle above her head as the boat touched the stone dock, looking away from him as the gentle bump caught her attention.

He stayed standing in the boat as Danielle scrambled out, knowing with a grim certainty that she would never be able to look graceful or nonchalant getting out of the cursed thing. She turned to watch him, cocking her head in question when he made no move to join her. "You know the way from here little aprendiz," The Phantom told her, leaning his weight expertly on the pole as he controlled the shallow craft. Danielle's brow puckered slightly at this new title, a line forming between her eyebrows. "What's with the little? Shall I start calling you Big Boss?" She cocked an eyebrow, planting her uninjured fist on a hip. "I should think that would be obvious, and you shall call me Eric; I find I grow tired of 'The Phantom' and your obtuse 'Boss' ruse." He'd already begun guiding the craft away, missing Danielle's stunned expression as gloom obscured her from his view. She was not so stunned to discover he'd seen through the 'Boss' term, but positively floored that he'd given her his name. Raising her free hand she covered her eyes and leaned into the reassuring solidity of her palm. Too much had happened today, and right now she did not have enough brain cells to cope.

Deliberately forcing her chaotic thoughts into submission, at least for the next few hours, Danielle turned for the passage that led to her room; until she had the fortitude to sort them. Unsurprised to find the way lit by strategically placed torches she climbed on automatic until she stumbled into her apartment, shutting and jamming the mirror behind her as she did. Tired as she was Danielle knew she still had some rather pressing matters, namely the boys. Considering the way she had left them, she wouldn't be at all surprised to find them organising a lynch mob.

With a sigh Danielle left her rooms and forged a steady path back down to the main areas of the Opera, slinking in amongst the thinning crowd without anyone taking notice. She allowed the crowd to pull her along in its natural currant for a short time, agilely slipping out into a corridor without disturbing their flow. They were leaving she knew, the tradesmen returning for the night to their homes and families. Many of the performing staff remained in the residential boarding house up above, her destroyed apartment in an obscure enough section that it remained undisturbed. Danielle was relatively sure that she wouldn't be able to keep the room for much longer, especially not with the attached washroom. However, if she were lucky, the general trepidation remaining would prevent that for a while longer. At least until someone decided the Phantom wasn't going to step in and finish what he'd started.

Finding her group of lads wasn't hard, they were arguing fair loud enough to rival a group of tomcats, all she had to do was follow the sound. Her lynch mob idea wasn't that far off the mark. At least when she stepped unnoticed into their gathering spot the pervasive feeling in the room was a little too mob like for her palate.

"He's taken Daniel below and you want to wait!" bellowed tiny Tony, bouncing with fury. Blake stared down at him, as implacable as stone. "We don't know where they are down there; he'd have the advantage over us in that labyrinth." Blake pointed out, one dark brow raised in subtle challenge. Danielle hung back, melding seamlessly with the group; she wanted to see how Blake handled this.

It was always a bit peculiar to her that if she had tried to hide her alert boys would have instantly spotted her. Even they failed to notice her small slip of presence though; when she lounged indolently against a nearby prop as if she had never left. "He makes a good point Tony, calm down," Vorence placed a placating hand on his companions shoulder, swallowing both the shoulder and a good portion of his arm in his massive grip. Tony glared defiantly at Blake for a moment longer, and then deflated and shook his head. "But we can't just sit here!" he insisted, though without the defiance of a moment before. Blake nodded his head in agreement, turning his gaze to lock on the young pair George and Andy. "What did you learn from the trap door?" He asked. Danielle approved of the commanding but not domineering tone of his voice. "Grade A work, never seen its like." George spoke with enthusiasm, his eyes lighting as if he held a new type of toy in his hands. "We've seen a lot of escape routes, but this one is seamless," Andy added, splaying his hands to indicate the mastery. "The mechanism is adjusted just so that once you're through, no one can follow. If you can even find the damn thing, only reason we could spot it is because of the three years' worth of dust and the sawdust in that pit." Andy looked at George; their expressions turning sour at the same instant. "In fact, it's the first bloody door we've been unable to get through since, well, ever." George turned an apologetic face to Blake.

He waved away the apologetic tone, indicating without words that the sentiment wasn't necessary. "We'll just have to find another way in," he frowned even as he spoke, Danielle guessing he was remembering that she had been uncovering the various hidden passageways and had yet to pass this information on. She had initially started some sketches of the passages in relation to where they were in the Opera House but shortly after initiation into the Phantom's tutelage Danielle had neglected the rough maps. She watched with a half-smile as Blake caught the attention of Andy and George with another wave of his hand. They perked up, metaphysical tails wagging, as they awaited his instruction. "I need you to go to Daniel's room, search it for anything relating to the tunnels," despite their interested expressions he left it at that. Danielle could only approve. Being too specific about what to find would result in them overlooking items that could otherwise lead to exactly what they needed, plus it kept them intrigued which meant they were alert for longer; even when combing through hay, as it were.

With a quick nod Blake sent them on their way, and they would have scampered right past Danielle without a second glance had she not grabbed the pair of them by the back of their tunics. As they began to react instinctually, Danielle dropped to one knee to avoid the fists previously intended for her face and with a strong jerk sent them reeling backwards before landing heavily on their tailbones. She pretended to dust off her hands as she stood and turned to face the two wide eyed youths, ignoring the throbbing in her wrist the trick had redoubled. It was worth it to see the expressions of renewed respect flash for only a moment from the gathered group before shouts arose. A cacophony of sound she chose to ignore until they settled back into silence.

As the dust shaken loose from the rafters began to settle Danielle locked eyes with Blake. He was frowning still, obviously unhappy. She knew she'd have to give him an explanation or risk alienating him. He wasn't one to pry ordinarily, but she knew she'd given him a scare today and it was the least he deserved. At least Blake wouldn't demand a play-by-play. He never required much; mostly he was a need to know kind of guy. As he had earlier she waved a hand to indicate without words that she'd explain later. As she did Blake's eyes flickered to her waving gesture, locking instantly on the first aid with a deeper frown. Danielle sighed with exasperation, approaching at a faster gait to forestall the brewing anger Blake very rarely unleashed. "Down boy," she muttered for his ears alone the moment she was in range, sending him a hard look before turning to her small clutch. "That," she paused, gaining the absolute attention of the room. "Was close," Danielle finished with her voice arrogant and her mouth curling into a familiar smirk. Chuckles filtered back to her, though subdued.

"What happened?" This was Tony, forever forward in his thoughts. Mutters along the same vein followed his question. Danielle sighed, she was so tired, and gestured for everyone to take a seat as she climbed what looked and felt like a pile of rolled rugs. She settled at the top, resting her bandaged wrist against a knee. "First of all, whilst I appreciate what you were trying to do, no one is to ever interfere in my fights unless I indicate otherwise." She levelled a gaze of frigid amber on them until they began to squirm, visibly fidgeting. Even Blake rolled his shoulders; she could view him across the heads of her audience standing at the back. "But why did you push him Daniel" Danielle couldn't pin point the speaker, she was so very tired. She rubbed her good hand over her eyes, trying to ease the burning. "That dagger is only a few inches long and not weighted right for throwing. At the time I judged it at best would lodge in his shoulder; I've looked into his eyes boys, it would've done nothing but make him mad. At worse it would have hit me, distracting me enough to let him shatter my defence and finish me off." She chopped her hand lazily through the air to indicate sudden cut off. "I had enough time to decide that if I 'saved' him he'd owe me, and maybe I'd get us all off the hook; so I did." She shrugged with the last word and pushed herself off her makeshift tower of rugs, her legs barely catching her as she hit the ground. Clenching her jaw she willed the weariness off for just a while longer. "It worked; we're safe, this time." She pointed at them with a sudden movement, emphasizing the significance of that. Danielle didn't expect them to suddenly sing his praises, but she wanted them to be careful, and gratefully she knew they understood her.

She bid them goodnight then, exchanging some quick words with a few of them before she gestured Blake over to her side and left the area. They walked in silence, Blake patiently waiting for her forthcoming explanation. Danielle shoved her hands into her pants pockets, the extra bulk on her injury only causing minor difficulty. "He fixed me up," she said as they turned a corner, catching the quick nod from Blake. She knew he'd already guessed, she was only confirming. She hadn't actually told Blake what she was doing with the Phantom, but intimations had been made. She'd lost count of the amount of times she'd left him with leading bits of information. She supposed she'd have to come clean, to a certain extent anyway. She wet her lips, sorting through what to tell him as she did, and prepared to speak. "We're needed in the amphitheatre tomorrow, the new chandelier is going up tomorrow and they want all hands on deck." Blake cut her off before she had even drawn the first breath, startling a breath out of her instead. "**All** hands Daniel," he said again, and Danielle understood in that moment that she had not given him enough credit. He'd obviously figured enough out, and knew where and with whom she'd been spending all her time. Now though, she sensed a subtle disapproval from him, a not quite there reprimand that asked her faintly to spend less time _there_ and more time _here_. Her chest felt tight as she nodded, "I'll be there." With the promise still warm on her tongue she bid Blake too goodnight and left him at one of the many corridor intersections; knowing she'd just committed to his unspoken request.

There was not much time left before the Opera was finished and the Boss would be moving them elsewhere, leaving Danielle behind. She reasoned with herself as she climbed steadily to her temporary quarters. For now she would try to split her time more in their favour, until they left and she could give it all to Eric. Warmth flooded her unexpectedly as his name inserted itself into her thoughts. Blood leaping into her checks with unexpected enthusiasm. Scowling she ordered her thoughts into submission, though her present state of lethargy made it more difficult than normal. She would think about her new plateau of emotions regarding Eric later, when she had the emotional fortitude to deal with whatever was there.

Finally Danielle was in her room, and despite her growing grogginess she managed to strip quickly and efficiently, even hampered by her wrist. She shed her binding with a sigh of release, and then cringed as blood surged in to remind her she was battered all over. Too tired to bother with bathing Danielle struggled into her linen shirt in place of a nightgown and went to scrub her face instead in the washbasin. She fell into bed, regretting it a little as she knocked the air from her lungs. Flipping onto her back, reminding herself just in time to not use her wrist, she pulled the blanket cloak up and snuggled beneath its heavy comfort. She fell asleep thinking of the shifting patterns of blue in the far too knowing gaze of The Phantom.

Author's Note:

Before anyone starts pulling out the explosives, let me explain….. okay, scratch that, let me duck and cover.

I apologize for the lack of updates. Between the abrupt death of my pc, damn you blue screen!, and general suckiness at work I'm afraid my writing motivation took a nose dive. I just recently got my computer back, and my plan was to hold off posting another update until I had something super long to post.

That was the plan, past tense. I've since realised that if I stick to this plan it is going to be a reaaaaaallllllyy long time before we see any activity. I don't want to do that to my readers and I'm too excited about finally being able to post again to withhold much longer.

Unfortunately my work still sucks my soul till it leaves nothing but a flaccid husk, so updates are still going to be slow in coming. However, with my computer back on track we should be seeing updates occasionally instead of once a century.

Anyway, regarding this chapter; who saw that coming? Honestly now, who?

Castratos were such a good cover, and explained away everything about her without uncovering her secret.

I'm looking forward to the masquerade, le shit will hit le fan, so to speak.

Now, onto my reviewers!

CodeNameRunner:

In my head, and about half a dozen notebooks and various post it notes in varying locations.

MrsKasparVarn:

Gosh, now I'm all warm and fuzzy. I did try to update as quickly as I could, honest.

:

I do love all that's amazing and beautiful, hmmmmmm.

pegasus5406:

I appreciate the reviews, but am equally happy that you liked it enough you couldn't stop!

jackiemack916:

Stick with me and we'll go far kid.

Bad movie reference, but I regret nothing!

Danielle is nothing if not resilient. Hell, she's resisted Erik so far, in my opinion that's will power I admire.

There are so many reviewers, and I wish I could respond to you all, but please know that your support is a wonderful motivation to write and every time I receive one I get this great burst of enthusiasm to write.

I am always happy to respond to PM's if I haven't responded to a review, and even in the regrettably large span of time between chapters it is very likely you'll get a response that way.

Thankyou for your ongoing support!

As always, your obedient Author.

- SnickersPods

P.S. I am looking for cover art for this story. If any one wants me to consider something you have made please contact me via PM.


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